Crash
by Randy Taylor
Summary: In the year 2006, everything seems to be going right for Randy. Then something bad happens to him. Will he survive? If so, how will he manage to piece his life back together? Forget what I said before about this fic not being dramatic as some of my others
1. Prologue: Crash Into Me

Crash Prologue

Randy's POV

'So, we urge citizens to speak up. They are the only ones that can prevent the destruction of the three acres of forest that would be needed to build the proposed highway. Wildlife should not have to _make_ the best of what's around, they should continue living in "the best of what's around". It is, after all, rightfully their land, not ours' I read aloud to Lauren.

We're sitting in her apartment, and we've just finished writing our latest article for _The Detroit Free Press._

God, it's hard to believe that we've known each other for almost 10 years now. It'll be ten years in two weeks.

Just thinking about those days always puts a smile on my face. Back then we were just a couple of teenagers who wrote together on the school paper. We started out as friends, then we began dating.

Now I've decided that on our ten year anniversary of meeting, I'm going to ask her to marry me. I have the whole evening planned out. We'll be whisked away to a fancy restaurant where you have to make reservations two months in advance in a black limousine. Then after a nice dinner with some fine wine, I'll propose. But, it'll be a real surprise, since I'll have the ring hidden on a nearby desert cart. I'm just glad that the restaurant manager was so agreeable to my plans. I'll just say that the dinner, the limo, everything, is all for our 10 year anniversary. Hopefully she'll buy it.

Ah, then of course there's the ring. And it's a real beauty too. It's a little on the simple side, but hey, I'm not made out of money. The ring itself is just gold, but there is a diamond on it the size of a large marble. I really hope that Lauren likes it. If not, then we can just take that one back and she can choose one that she likes.

'Randy, did you hear me?' asks Lauren, snapping me out of my thoughts, and back to reality.

'I'm sorry; I got kind of lost in my thoughts' I apologize.

'I said it doesn't seem possible that we've known each other for almost ten years now, does it?' repeats Lauren.

'No, it doesn't. I was thinking, maybe we could go out for dinner Thursday after next. That's the ten year anniversary, to the exact date' I suggest.

'That sounds great' Lauren says.

'Yeah, I was thinking about going all out. You know, have a limousine take us there, that kind of thing' I say.

'You already have reservations made?' questions Lauren.

'Yeah, it's that place that Italian place up town. What's it called? Uh…Cellars! Yeah, it's called Cellars' I answer.

'Well, it sounds delightful' Lauren responds.

'I certainly hope that it will be' I say.

'I have to go now' I say, glancing at my watch. 'I promised mom and dad that I'd be there at 1:00 so we can get to the concert in time to see the opening act' I say.

'Alright. Have fun. I hope they play "If It Makes You Happy" and Soak Up the Sun". I know those are your favorite songs. I just have one question, how did you talk your parents into going to see Sheryl Crow in concert?' asks Lauren.

'Well, mom and dad like The Black Crowes, and their opening the show' I reply.

'Aah' Lauren says in response.

'Until next time' I say, rather than goodbye. I formed this habit four or five years ago when I first met one of my friends. He would always say "this isn't goodbye, it's just until next time". The guy had a good point, and he got me hooked on saying that. Ironically, my last words to the guy were "goodbye". He died ten months after we met.

'Yeah, g-, I mean until next time' Lauren says. She's trying to convert to "until next time" as well, but she just started.

I walk down the stairs in her apartment building, and then outside. Then I get into my car, an early model Dodge Stratus. Dad absolutely hates the thing because it isn't a classic, or a Chevy, or a Ford, or anything else that he likes. Mom thinks it's cute. Cute isn't exactly why I bought it, but hey, that's mom for you.

Once inside, I start the car, and "No More" comes blaring out of the speakers. I then remember that I had the radio blaring, listening to "Face the Promise", Bob Seger's new album.

Pulling out of the parking lot of the apartment building, I notice what a beautiful September day it is.

Everything seems to be going perfect for me recently. I'm going to see Sheryl Crow, Lauren and I will (hopefully) get engaged, and Lauren and I just got a steady job writing articles for _The Detroit Free Press_.

Life can't possibly get any better than this.

As I hit the freeway that will take me back to Royal Oak, "Between" begins playing. Next to "No More", this is my favorite song.

* * *

Third Person POV

Seemingly out of nowhere, a semi appears from around a bend.

The semi never turns, and despite the efforts of the driver of the silver Stratus, the semi crashes into the Stratus.

* * *

A/N: I hope everyone likes this. Let me know what you think.

The very being of this story is interesting. This is merely a reworked version of the original prologue to another one of my stories, The Ruins of Our Lives. I was looking for a new story concept, and just happened across that prologue, and decided to change a few things. I only hope this story can be as succesful as The Ruins of Our Lives is/was.

In case anyone hasn't noticed, there has actually been two rather subtle references to Dave Matthews Band in this story so far. First off, the name of the story, "Crash", is the name of their second album. The second reference is in this line:

_Wildlife should not have to "make" the best of what's around, they should continue living in "the best of what's around"._

I twice mention "The Best of What's Around", which is a Dave Matthews Band song.

By the way, I hope that that line isn't too cheesy. I just happened to be listening to that song at the time. That, and I needed a clever, witty ending to the article.

Anyways, please R&R if you want more of this story. (Or I could leave everyone hanging, wondering if Randy lives or dies. Your choice).

Let me know if you have any good ideas for this story. It's still kind of in the planning stages. Right now, all I know about this story really is what I just wrote and how it'll end.

Thanks for reading, I appreciate it. I'm glad that you all are willing to read my newer stories, and not just my four originals.

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor


	2. Chapter 1: Save Me

Crash Chapter 1

A/N: This takes place about 15 minutes after the end of the previous one.

* * *

Jill's POV

'I wonder Randy is?' I wonder aloud.

'He's probably just stuck in traffic or something. Don't worry, he'll be here soon' Tim replies from the couch, where he has been for the past hour, watching TV. This of course leaves me to take care of packing water bottles, putting gas in the car, buying film for the camera, and other such things to prepare for the concert and the trip to and from the concert. In short, it's just the typical story of being a wife.

'We interrupt this broadcast to bring you news of a wreck' I hear the TV announce suddenly.

'See there honey, this is probably why Randy's late getting here' Tim says.

'We now send you to our man on the scene, Daniel Randolph' the anchor man says.

I walk over behind the couch, and watch as we get a bird's eye view of the scene of the wreck.

'The wreck happened just about fifteen minutes ago, so we obviously do not have any news yet on the victims other than one of them is dead, and one is in critical condition and has been removed from the scene by medivac. The only other piece of information we have are the following numbers from the sedan's license plate: 7439. The first three numbers and/or letters cannot be identified. If you know anyone with these numbers, please call the police. Back to you Joe' the man, Daniel Randolph, reports.

'Oh my God! Tim, those are Randy's license plate numbers!' I shriek.

'Okay, just calm down now Jill, just because those are 4 of the numbers doesn't mean the other two are the same as Randy's. After all, there's…uh….let's see…well…there's several possibilities for the other two digits' Tim rationalizes.

'I'm going to call the police anyway. Just in case it is Randy' I say, walking over to the phone.

'Oh yeah, and tell them what? Besides, didn't Randy just get new license plates?' Tim asks.

'Yeah, but he only got them a couple of days ago. Who knows whether or not he's changed them yet' I reply.

'Maybe I should drive over to his apartment and see if they're anywhere to be found. Yeah, I think I'll do that. Then if I find the new plates, then you can call the police, how about that? I'm sure the lines to the police are jam packed anyways. Just call me if Randy shows up while I'm gone' Tim tells me, on his way out the door.

'Okay' I say dejectedly.

I walk over and sit down on the couch to just try to sort things out.

* * *

Lauren's POV

Randy and I have been through quite a bit over the past ten years. We both went to Costa Rica together for a year. (Even though that was kind of a disaster, considering we got stuck there for an extra three months because of a huge hurricane). We graduated from high school together, went to college together, and then found a job where we're working together. Sometimes I wonder where I would be and what I'd be doing if we had never moved to Detroit from Milwaukee

'What's going on?' I say to myself (since no one else is here for me to talk to) as I look up at the TV screen. It looks like there's been some kind of wreck.

'… The only other piece of information we have are the following numbers from the sedan's license plate: 7439. The first three numbers and/or letters cannot be identified. If you know anyone with these numbers, please call the police…' I hear the reporter say. (I'd had it on mute up until now).

I think Randy's license plates were had 7439 in them. Maybe I should call his parents and find out.

I get up from the loveseat and walk over to the dining room table (which isn't a far walk in my small apartment), and grab my cell phone and press speed dial 3.

'Hello' Mrs. Taylor answers.

'Hi Mrs. Taylor, it's Lauren. Have you seen on TV about that wreck?' I ask.

'Yes. Please tell me Randy is still at your apartment' Mrs. Taylor begs, crying.

'Unfortunately he isn't. He left about 20 minutes ago. I just heard on TV about the license plate numbers. Weren't those Randy's?' I ask.

'Yes, but he did just get new license plates. Tim's on his way over to Randy's apartment to see if Randy has got around to changing them yet' Mrs. Taylor explains.

'Okay. Call me if you find out anything' I start to say, but am cut off by Mrs. Taylor.

'Hold on just a second Lauren, there's another call coming in on the line' she says.

So I wait for a few minutes, just hoping, praying, that Randy isn't involved in the wreck.

'Lauren' Mrs. Taylor begins, crying even more now than she was before 'Tim found Randy's new license plates in his apartment' she says in between huge sobs.

'I guess I'll get off the phone and let you call the police then. If you find out anything else, let me know' I say, starting to cry now too.

I close the phone and walk outside onto the small deck that I have. (Everything about my apartment is small).

I gaze out into the distance, off into the sunset, and wonder if maybe "goodbye" would have been a more appropriate phrase in this case for me and Randy to use, as opposed to "until next time".

A/N: This is one of only two total chapters that I have written and actually cried during the process. (And I'm not ashamed to admit it either). Not to be cruel, but I hope it had at least a minute emotional effect on you as well.

Sorry about posting this twice, but I posted the wrong version before. Hey, I'm human, right? I'm allowed one screw up, right?

Please R&R if you want more details on Randy's condition.

Thanks for reading.

Until next time:

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor


	3. Chapter 2: What Will Become of Me?

Crash Chapter 2

Randy's POV

'What have we got here?' I hear someone ask when I regain consciousness.

'Detroit Memorial just sent him over. They Medivacked him from that wreck out on the highway. He was DOA according to the attending' another voice says.

What does he mean DOA? I'm still alive! I'm still fully conscious! Unless…unless this is what being dead is like. No, I _must_ be alive! There's just no other possible way I can be experiencing this.

'I didn't know you were on today, Jonathan' the second voice says after a few minutes.

'Yeah, me either, Dr. Weiss' a third voice pipes up, this one female.

'I didn't intend to be, but I got a call from Ritchie saying that you guys were swamped' the first voice, who must be Dr. Weiss, or Jonathan, or however you want to phrase it, says.

'You mean we **are** swamped' the female doctor says.

'Jordan's right, 31 bodies have come in since 5:00 this morning' says the second voice.

Bodies? Where the hell am I?

Maybe if I could just try to talk, or make some sort of movement…

After several minutes of attempting to show any signs of life, I give up, unsuccessful.

'Let's put this one in the drawer for the night. We can get back to him tomorrow' Dr. Weiss says once we reach a chilly room.

"No! Let's not just put me away!" I can't help but think; and try to say when I hear those words.

The female doctor, Jordan, pulls the sheet that has been covering my body up over my face, which is a little scary. It gives you the same kind of emotional rush as if someone was attempting to suffocate you.

Then, with the help of the other male doctor, she lifts me into some kind of drawer.

"God damn!" I shout in my thoughts (since I can't talk out loud at the moment) when my body touches the freezing stainless steel interior of the "drawer".

As if that wasn't bad enough, the doctors close the drawer. So now I'm stuck here in a dark, frigid drawer, with nothing to do but think and try to figure out what the hell is going on, where the hell I am, and why the hell this is happening to me.

I think I know where I am. I think I'm in a morgue.

As far as _what_ the hell goes, I'm completely clueless. The last thing I can remember is being crashed into by a semi. The very next thing I can remember (and trust me, I'm straining as hard and thinking as long as I possibly can) is hearing that doctor's voice, wanting to know "what we've got".

* * *

3 ½ hours later

I think I've figured it out. I think I must be in hell.

I don't know why I am in hell, but that's what this must be.

I mean, I've always tried to help out the environment and mankind, but maybe my bad out weighs the good.

Maybe this is for not going to church eight years ago. But even then, I didn't abandon God! I just simply felt that organized religion wasn't the way for me to experience God. No, that's a lie. I simply felt organized religion was a crock.

Or maybe this is because I listened to George Carlin, he was an atheist you know. He was still funny though. I mean, saying he isn't funny because he's an atheist is like saying Ellen DeGeneres isn't funny (which she is!) because she's gay. Ultimately, it's really no different from racism, in my opinion.

No, I think I know why now. Maybe it's because I was always so mean to Mark. But if that's the case, why isn't Brad here too? And every other big brother to ever walk the planet?

Well, I've certainly done something to deserve this. I just wish someone would tell me what it was.

Yep, I see the sign, right there, "Welcome to Hell, population: You!"

* * *

The Next Afternoon

I am going insane. I've lost all track of time. For all I know, this could have been only ten minutes, or it could have been ten years.

Then all of a sudden, I can feel the drawer moving, being pulled open.

Once it's open, the same two doctors from yesterday, Jordan, and Jonathan Weiss lift me out of the drawer, and on to another freezing slab of stainless steel.

Jordan turns on a huge hanging light above the steel slab that I'm on, while Jonathan pulls over a tray of very shiny, very sharp, very painful looking instruments.

It's then that I realize what these two are going to do to yours truly. ("Calm down Randy! Don't start talking to your self now" I think).

Then Jordan presses "play" on a stereo, and the sound of Hootie and the Blowfish floods the room. Under any other circumstances, this would be almost comforting to me, but not today!

After listening for a couple of seconds (or minutes perhaps), Jonathan pours over his tray of instruments, and selects one finally.

He then wields the tool (I have no idea what the exact name would be) over me, and slowly moves his tool wielding hand closer and closer to my abdomen.

I prepare my self for the pain of being cut open while un-medicated.

* * *

A/N: I'll just leave everyone hanging there for a few days.

First off, I have to give Lee Sinins a gigantic thank you for giving me this idea. Lee, I hope what I said before about only using part of your idea for now is clearer. Sorry if it isn't. :(

I also need to thank the TV show Crossing Jordan for giving me the idea for this entire chapter, and for part of the next chapter.

And yes, I have yet another story that Jonathan Taylor Thomas has found his way into. I can't help it! He's just such a charismatic guy that it's hard for me not to include him in my stories.

Please R&R unless you want Randy to feel a world of pain.

Thanks for reading.

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor


	4. Chapter 3 pt 1: Say Goodbye

Crash Chapter 3

Dr. Jonathan Taylor Weiss' POV

I'm just beginning the autopsy on the car crash vic when our receptionist comes bursting through the doors. (Don't ask me why we have to do an autopsy on someone who's died in a car crash, but we do. I mean, it's like the morgues weren't overworked enough the way it is).

'Stop Jonathan!!' shouts Erica, the receptionist.

'Why?' I demand, placing my scalpel back on the chrome tray.

'That body hasn't been identified yet!' she shouts right back.

'Could you stop shouting now that I've dropped the scalpel?' I ask half sarcastic, half serious.

'Why? It's not as if my shouting sounds any worse than that God awful music' Erica retorts.

'Hey! Don't mock Hootie. Their first album has gone platinum sixteen times!' I warn.

'Anyways, that body you're about to carve up has yet to be identified. The guy's parents and girlfriend will be here in ten minutes' Erica says, all business now.

* * *

Jill's POV

'God Tim, I wish I didn't have to do this. You know, I mean, I just had to do this a year and a half ago when my mom got shot. I never thought I have to do this for my own child' I say on the car ride over.

'I didn't know your mother was shot' Lauren says from the backseat.

'Yeah, remember, Lauren' Tim pipes up so I don't completely lose it having to tell the story 'That guy that was all over the local and national news. He shot eleven people in that bank hold up. Her mom was one of those eleven, and since Jill and her sister Robin are the nearest relatives, they had to go in and identify the body'.

'I'm so sorry about that. I'll have to get you a card' Lauren says, her condolences only worsening my current emotional state.

'It's just going to be so odd to see him lying there lifeless' I say.

That statement instantly triggers a horrible memory from when Randy was 3 1/2. It was when he had his first asthma attack.

Tim was at work, and it was just me, Brad, and Randy at home.

Brad and Randy were in the living room playing, and I was upstairs taking a shower.

I guess all of a sudden Randy started gasping for air, and it scared Brad (and rightfully so!), and he came running upstairs, hollering "Randy's dying! Randy's dying!".

I didn't know what on earth he was talking about, so I jumped out of the shower, put my robe on, and ran down the stairs, following Brad. When I got there, Randy was laying on the floor, heaving in and out, taking the biggest breath his little lungs could muster. I didn't know what was happening, other than the fact that he couldn't breathe. I didn't know if he was choking on something, or what had happened. I grabbed him up, and carried him outside to see if Wilson knew what was going on.

Luckily he was outside, and he somewhat surprisingly (at the time) knew what was happening. He ran inside, dialed 9-1-1, and waited with me, Brad, and Randy for the paramedics to arrive.

I remember on the ambulance ride over looking at Randy, seeing his lifeless body, seeing his slightly blue lips, and thinking that this is the most horrible thing that could ever happen to him. Boy was I ever wrong.

'Jill, will you be joining us inside?' Tim inquires, snapping me back to reality, in all of its sheer ugliness. I look up, and see Lauren and Tim waiting outisde my partially open window.

'Sorry, I just kind of got lost in my thoughts' I apologize while unbuckling and opening the door.

Once inside, things get even worse. When the receptionist says she's going to take us to the body, I start sobbing hysterically.

As we make our way through the halls, my sobbing becomes even more hysterical, reaching their peak right on cue as we walk into a cold, sanitary looking, airy feeling room.

And there, in the center of the room, lies a body. Randy's body. It isn't mangled or bloody (except for a gash on his head which looks a little fatal). No, in fact, except for the aforementioned gash, Randy looks just like he has for the past nine or ten years.

Tim has started crying as well, which is really unlike him.

'I'll assume from this reaction that this is your son' a doctor says, walking in.

'Yes' Lauren answers for Tim and I, through her own sobs.

'I'll give you a moment alone with the body' the doctor, who looks an awful lot like Randy, says.

'Doctor, excuse me, but you could show a little compassion, rather than just calling someone "the body". This was not "the body" to my wife and I for 25 years, this was our son, dammit' Tim says.

'Sorry' the doctor says simply, walking into an adjoining room.

'Oh my God, what the hell is all this?' I screech when I see a metal tray containing several maniacal, evil, cruel, sharp, and painful looking tools of the medical examiner trade.

'Ma'am, those are just tools that have to be used for the autopsy' a female doctor says, stepping into the room.

'I'm sorry, I hope I'm not interrupting anything' she adds.

'No, no. It's that other SOB that's interrupting' Tim says.

'Oh, you mean Jonathan? Yeah, he can be a little abrasive at times. But, let me warn you not to let him hear you call him a son of a bitch here. See, he's the head M.E. In other words, he has the power to kick you all out' the doctor says.

'Oh, by the way, my name's Jordan Cavanaugh' she adds.

'He runs the place? He looks like he's about fifteen' Lauren says.

'No, he's thirty nine, and has been head M.E. for thirteen years' Jordan explains.

'I just have one question' I speak for the first time. 'Why do you all have to do an autopsy on Randy when he just died in a car accident?'

'To tell you the truth, I don't really know. It's state policy. I guess they think that all medical examiners do is sit around and drink coffee all day' Jordan replies with a smile.

'Oh' I say.

**TO BE CONTINUED**

* * *

A/N: Right off the bat, I want to say, this chapter is going to be broken up into two parts. I'll have Tim, Lauren, and Randy's POV in the next chapter, and maybe even Brad and Mark's (depending on how long it takes for the rest of the POVs).

And yes, I'm aware of the fact that nobody (including Randy or you) knows what's going on with Randy. For all you know, he might be dead. He could be alive. He could be in some third state of existance. I promise that I'll reveal what's up with Randy in the next chapter.

Also, the character of Jordan Cavanaugh does not belong to me. She belongs to Tim Kring and the other producers of the (former) hit TV show Crossing Jordan.

Please R&R if you want to know what's up with Randy.

Thanks for reading, and thanks for reviewing. I appreciate them both.

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor


	5. Chapter 3 pt 2: True Reflections

Crash Chapter 3 Pt. 2

True Reflections

Tim's POV

What I just had to do is the hardest thing for any parent to ever have to do. You should never have to see your child lying on a cold slab of steel, looking like a mannequin.

I just can't believe how much he looked the same though. I thought his body would be mangled as hell. But no, he only had a some scratches and bruises on his body, and a small gash in his head.

I can't even begin to imagine what Jill is going through. She and Randy were always real close, mainly because Randy wasn't in to cars and tools and engines and more power and grunting and all that junk that I'm in to. He was always more interested in books and computers and getting As on his homework assignments. That's pretty much Jill's domain.

That asshole medical examiner, that Dr. Weiss, better hope he doesn't piss me off too badly. I don't care if he's the surgeon general's left nut, he isn't going to just simply go about business on this case. I'll see to that.

God, why does this stuff always have to happen to Randy? It's always been him. He had colic when he was first born, got real severe asthma as a toddler, then of course we thought he had cancer about ten and a half years ago.

God, has it been ten years since then? Looking back, my life was just perfect then. All three boys were in school, as well as Jill, I had a great job that didn't make me feel like throttling half the people I dealt with on a daily basis. (Not that being chairman of Binford Tools is all that bad).

* * *

Lauren's POV

Poor Randy. That's all I can keep thinking. It's just such a shame that he had to die now. I know all about the surprise evening he had planned for our ten year anniversary of meeting. The limo, the wine, the food, the ring in the desert cart, all of it. Hey, what can I say, it helps to have a great uncle in the restaurant business.

The entire time we were at the morgue, I half expected Randy (or Randy's body, or however you want to phrase it) to sit up, and announce that this was all some big prank he schemed up. Seriosuly though, it seemed like he should just wake up.

It's funny, the state of mind everyone (at least everyone in the United States) has. You know people die. I mean, there's always dead people everyday in the obituary section. But when it comes to your family and friends and animals and any other mortal being, you never think that it'll happen. You just think that they'll live forever. I mean, after all, _you_ know them, so they can't die. It's just not possible, right? You'd think as advanced we Americans are, we'd be able to accept death much easier.

'No, don't go down that road Mr. Taylor. Take the other way' I say all of a sudden. We're on our way home now from the morgue, and Mr. Taylor almost chose the freeway that killed Randy. I think Mrs. Taylor and I would've had a total meltdown if he had actually gone that way.

* * *

Brad's POV

'You know, I still cannot believe that my brother is dead. You know Colin, I almost wish I was dead with him. That way we could face the after life together' I say to the guy who works next to me at the music store I work at. 'You know, I even had a dream last night that I was dead, there in hell with him. I guess we were in hell because of the way we used to treat our younger brother Mark'.

'So, how do you know you aren't dead?' Colin asks, flipping the page of his magazine as he does so.

'Well, let's see, I woke up this morning and came to work. Isn't that enough to prove to you that I'm not dead?' I argue.

'So, maybe you **are **dead, and maybe this **is **hell. I mean, we only make like what, a dollar above minimum wage, and we deserve a lot more than that for putting up with Queen Bitch back there' he says, motioning to the (currently empty) office of the manager of this store.

'True. Maybe I really am dead. I mean, we both know that Vicky isn't going inside the pearly gates when she dies' I say.

'Come on man, I'm just messing with your head' Colin says, looking up from the magazine and smiling.

'I just can't believe I'll never get to see Randy again. I mean, yeah, sure, there's the funeral, but I wanted to be able to carry on a conversation with him' I say.

'Well, you know, there's always when you die' Colin jokes.

* * *

Mark's POV

How could Randy be dead? It just doesn't seem possible. I wish it wasn't possible.

I mean, sure he and Brad always tormented me and made my life a living hell to put it bluntly, but neither of them deserve to die young.

Now I'm going through that stage where I wish we had spent more time together. (After we got a little older and could actually stand each other). I know that isn't typically included in the process of dealing with someone or thing's death, but it sure should be. I know I felt this way when grandpa and grandma died. I think everyone does that when someone close to them dies.

I try hard not to, but I keep thinking of all these old memories of when we was kids. Life was so much simpler back then. Of course it didn't seem that way at the time. It seemed like life was very hard and complicated. (Especially if you had Mrs. Moore for sixth grade math. Yikes!)

I just wish I could've got to tell him goodbye. Or, "until next time" as he started saying after he came back from Costa Rica.

It's true what they say, you never realize how good something or someone is for your life until they are gone.

* * *

Randy's POV

It was so hard to see mom and dad and Lauren and not be able to say something or move or do anything to show a sign of life. Believe me, I was trying my damnedest.

Perhaps I should use that phrase, considering what will soon happen to me.

I have been thinking. I wonder how I was able to survive the night (I'm assuming I've spent an entire night here) in that cold drawer. I wonder how I managed to not get hypothermia. I mean, you can't tell me the sheet on my body was that thick, and besides, one sheet wouldn't generally be enough to halt hypothermia.

I don't know. Maybe my body is dead, but somehow my brain is still active. No, that doesn't even make sense! The brain needs blood to be active, and to get blood to the brain, the heart has to still be pumping the blood. So unless by brain and heart are still functioning, and my body is just dead weight (no pun intended), then I've created some kind of third existence here.

Oh God. Oh no. Oh my God. Here we go again with the Hootie and the Blowfish.

Can't this guy be like every other psycho with a scalpel and put on Marilyn Manson or something along those lines when he's about to butcher a body? I mean, does he really have to use Hootie for such evil purposes?

Now he's walking over to the tray containing all of the sharp, shiny, pain inducing instruments. He selects one, the same one he previously selected, and walks over to my body.

Now the female doctor, Jordan, has joined him in here.

Well, I guess it's time I bite the bullet. I guess I don't really have much of a choice in the matter, do I?

* * *

A/N: Before anyone says anything, I said I would reveal what's up with Randy in the next chapter. That would be chapter four, which does not come until chapter three is complete. This is the second part of chapter three. Sorry to keep everyone in suspense, but I'll update again on either Sunday or Monday, okay?

I want to thank Colin Creevey for inadvertantly giving me the idea for Brad's POV in this chapter.

I want to thank my cousin Sarah for inadvertantly giving me the idea for part of Lauren's POV in this chapter.

I want to thank Crossing Jordan once again for providing me with this idea and remind everyone out there that the character of Jordan that I'm using for this story belongs to Crossing Jordan.

I want to thank my favorite actor of all time, Jonathan Taylor Thomas, just for having acted in so many great roles.

And most importantly, I want to thank you, the reader, for living up to your namesake, and reading.

Please R&R so I can thank you for that as well!

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor


	6. Chapter 4: Heartbeat

Crash Chapter 4

"Heartbeat"

Randy's POV

Let me tell you what, it is hard to hear mom, dad, and Lauren in here and not be able to talk to them, or even see them. Even though I knew it would be a complete waste of time, and a total failure, I did try to talk or move while they was here. As I've already said, it was a total failure.

Honestly, I'm surprised Lauren didn't burst out crying like mom. She was probably doing that silent crying thing she has perfected.

My thoughts are interrupted as someone presses the "play" button on the stereo. Once again, Hootie and the Blowfish comes blaring out of the speakers. Once again, this does not comfort me.

I can almost sense Dr. Weiss' hand containing the scalpel moving closer and closer to my abdomen with each note of the music.

I sort of mentally grit my teeth and brace my self (since I can't do these actions physically).

After a few seconds, I can feel the coldness of the scalpel touching my body, then the pain of the incision being made. It almost feels like my body's on fire where he made the incision.

For some reason, Dr. Weiss stops, and I can feel the scalpel being removed from my body.

'Jonathan' Jordan says after a moment.

'What?' he barks, obviously frustrated by something.

'This body is bleeding' Jordan says, sounding a little frightened now. It's then that I notice the slightly warm feeling near the incision site.

'It can't bleed Jordan, it's dead' Dr. Weiss reminds her.

'Jonathan, I'm not stupid, I know a bleeding body when I see one. This man is...this man is alive!' Jordan exclaims.

'Well...uh...put some...uh...put something on there to catch the blood' Dr. Weiss instructs.

'What do we do? Do you know what's the matter with him? I mean, why he appears dead, but is bleeding?' Jordan asks.

'Dammit Jordan, I don't know. I've never seen or heard of anything like this before in my life. However...I think I may know of someone who has' Dr. Weiss says.

I can't help but think "Good! Then get that person over here and have them figure it out'.

'I'm going to watch the body. Go get Erica for me please' he instructs Jordan.

After a few minutes, I hear the voice that previously told Dr. Weiss to stop. 'What is it?' she asks.

'I need you to call two different numbers, in this order. Call Detroit Memorial for me please, and tell them that Dr. Ellis Mueller needs to come over here as soon as possible. Then call this young man's parents, and tell them that they need to come back over here immediately' Dr. Weiss orders.

'May I ask why?' Erica asks.

'This body, this man is alive' Dr. Weiss says. After he says that, I hear what sounds like perhaps a clipboard, or something similar, fall to the floor. (I can't see this since my eyes are closed).

'Oh my God! How do you know?' Erica asks, shocked.

'I made an incision in the abdomen, and Jordan noticed that it was bleeding. A dead man can't bleed' Dr. Weiss explains.

'What do you mean a dead man can't bleed?' Erica asks.

'You can only bleed if your blood is flowing. Your blood cannot flow if your heart is not beating. If your heart is beating, you are alive' Dr. Weiss explains.

'Now, you really need to get on to those phone calls' Dr. Weiss reminds her.

'Right away' Erica says.

* * *

A/N: I don't really know how to keep things flowing from that last sentence to what I want to happen next, so I'm just going to end the chapter right there. Don't worry, I'll update again tomorrow, and maybe even the next day. (I said _maybe_).

I would like to say something up front about the next chapter. There will be some parts where I might have to stretch the truth a little bit to make this story work. So please don't tell me in your reviews that such and such couldn't happen and doing something or other is unrealistic, because I already know that. I'll be sure to mention where I had to lie a little bit. (Let's face it, it's not stretching the truth, or pretending, or imagining, it's just downright lying).

Anyways, please R&R unless you want Randy laying there on that metal table, bleeding, forever.

Thanks for reading.

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor


	7. Chapter 5: Out of My Hands

Crash Chapter 5

"Out of My Hands"

Dr. Jonathan Weiss' POV

'Hi Dr. Mueller' I say as soon as he's through the door.

'Now Jonathan, what exactly is it that you need help with? Your secretary said something about one of your corpses not being a corpse' Ellis asks.

'Correct. He's one of the car crash vics. We got him yesterday from you all, and the report says he was DOA. I began doing the autopsy today, and after the first incision was made, the body began to bleed. That's when I had you called in. It seemed to me like you might have had a similar case once before' I say while walking, leading the way to the autopsy room where our live corpse is.

'Now I assume you've contacted his next of kin as well' he says.

'Yes, right after you' I tell him.

'Well, here we are' I say, holding one door open for Dr. Mueller.

'I need to go out front and wait for his parents and girlfriend. If you need anything, just find Erica' I instruct.

'Okay' he says.

I head back to the front of the building, taking a different path than the one I just tooka few short seconds ago.

After waiting about fifteen minutes, I see a Mustang pull up, and three people get out.

'Hello Dr. Weiss. The woman that called said something had come up with Randy. What is it?' Mr. Taylor asks.

'Come in first, please' I say, motioning towards the entrance.

After I get the three of them sat down in some plastic chairs, I break the news.

'We began the autopsy shortly after you left. A few seconds after I made the incision on your son's body, the incision site began bleeding' I explain.

'I...I don't understand what the problem is though' Mr. Taylor says.

'Oh my God! He's alive!' Mrs. Taylor and the young lady shout at the same time.

'Once again, I'll say this. I don't understand' Mr. Taylor says, sounding annoyed.

'Tim, if he's bleeding then that means that his heart is still pumping blood which means that he's still alive!' Jill explains.

'So if he's alive, then how come he can't move?' Mr. Taylor, Tim, asks.

'I'm not sure what exactly is going on. I have a colleague of mine, Dr. Ellis Mueller, the chief of emergency medicine over at Detroit Memorial, examining him at this very moment' I explain.

'Well does he know what **he's **doing?' the young lady asks.

'Yes, he does. After he has completed his examination, you all can go in there and he can explain to you what's going on' I say.

'When will that be?' Mrs. Taylor asks.

'It could be five minutes, it could be twenty five minutes, I don't know' I admit. God I'm sick of this whole honesty thing. I hate having to admit that I don't know something.

'I'll come back here and let you know when he's finished' I say.

* * *

Jill's POV

We wait about fifteen minutes before Dr. Weiss comes back and says that Dr. Mueller has finished the examination.

'You all are free to come back and speak with the doctor now' he says.

'Tim, you go ahead. I don't think I can' I say, starting to have another meltdown.

'Okay' Tim says.

Lauren decides to stay here with me as well.

Tim wouldn't be my number one choice to have talk to a doctor, but I honestly don't think that I'd be able to do too much better than tim under these circumstances.

Tim is back after about 15 minutes.

'So, what's going on?' I ask.

'From what I could gather, it has something to do with his spinal cord. Thank God it **can **be corrected with surgery and a whole lot of luck. However, the surgery is risky, and has only about a thirty percent chance of working. It's all up to us' Tim explains.

'Well, I think we should talk about this. Um, where's that doctor at?' I ask Tim.

'I don't know how to get back there. Go over there and ask the receptionist to give you directions' Tim says.

On my way over there, I literally run in to an elderly gentleman

'Oh I'm sorry' I say.

'Don't worry about it' the man says.

'Excuse me miss, could you tell me where to find Dr. Mueller at? He was over here from Detroit Memorial examining my son and I need to speak with him' I explain.

'Right over there. He's the man you just ran into' the receptionist says.

I walk over to the doctor and catch him just before he's about to walk out the door.

'Excuse me, Dr. Mueller' I shout, hoping to catch his attention.

'Yes?' he asks, turning around.

'You just examined my son, and I had some questions for you' I say.

'Okay. Let's head back inside then' Dr. Mueller suggests.

We do so.

'Well, before my husband and I discuss the surgery, we want to know a couple of things. First off, is Randy conscious? Do you know?' I ask.

'It's hard to say for sure, but most likely he is' Dr. Mueller answers.

'If we did choose to do the surgery, how far would we have to go to get it done?' I ask.

'Oh, about five miles down the road to Detroit Memorial Hospital' he answers.

'What are the chances that the surgery will be successful?' I ask, even though Tim already told me.

'There is about a thirty to thirty five percent chance of success' the doctor says.

'What would happen if either he didn't have the surgery or he had the surgery and it failed?' I ask, already knowing the answer to my own question.

'After a while, he would actually die' he responds.

'Okay, last one. In your professional opinion, should we choose to have the surgery done?' I ask.

'In my professional opinion, I don't know if I would. In my personal opinion, then I definitely would. So to give you a real answer, I would have the surgery done' Dr. Mueller, who I suddenly noticed looks very similar to Alan Alda, says.

'So what do we do when my husband and I make a decision?' I ask, biting my tongue when I realize that I promised the last question would be my last.

'Just call here at the M.E.'s office, and they can get into contact with me' he instructs.

'Will do' Tim says.

'So Tim, do we do it?' I ask, not wanting to prolong any of this.

'I think we should' Tim says.

'Me too' I say.

'I agree' Lauren says after a couple minutes of silence.

* * *

A/N: I hope this all sounds realistic enough. I am essentially making up the surgery, but without the surgery, this would be a _**damn **_short story.

Please review, that way I know I'm doing a good job writing this. If there's something about the stories you think should be different or something you don't like, then go ahead and review and let me know. (Unless you're going to tell the surgery is unrealistic, because I already know that).

Thanks for reading.

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor


	8. Chapter 6: So Much to Say

Crash Chapter 6

"So Much to Say"

Jill's POV

Tim, Lauren, and I head out of the morgue once again. Once again, we pile into the station wagon, and once again we head to Lauren's apartment.

The entire ride to Lauren's apartment is silent.

'Call me when you find out when the surgery is' Lauren says after she gets out of the car at her apartment building.

'Okay' I say, half distracted.

The entire twenty five minutes it takes for Tim and me to get home pass in silence as well. The radio is on, but muted. The only sounds are the occasional car horn and the hum of car engines.

When we get home, Tim takes an aspirin and lays down on the couch. I almost immediately get on the phone to call Brad and Mark.

I dial Brad's number first, since I know that Mark has a class until 5:30.

'Hello' Brad answers.

'Brad, it's mom' I say.

'What's going on mom? What happened?' Brad asks, noticing the panic in my voice.

'Well, I told you that we had to go and identify Randy's body today. After we did that, we got a call from the morgue. They had started doing the autopsy on Randy's body and as soon as the medical examiner made an incision, Randy started to bleed' I explain.

'And...' Brad says, as clueless as Tim was when he heard this news.

'That means he's alive, Brad! He's alive!' I shriek, causing Tim to get up from the couch and head upstairs, presumably to our bedroom.

'I...don't get it' Brad says.

'You can't bleed unless blood is pumping through your body, if blood is flowing through your veins, then your heart is beating, which means your alive, which means Randy is alive' I explain, getting a little tired of explaining this to everyone.

'So, if Randy isn't dead, then what's wrong with him?' Brad asks.

'It has something to do with his spinal cord. The doctor explained it better, but it's really just a bunch of medical gobbledy gook' I say.

'Is there anything they can do to fix the spinal cord?' Brad asks. Our conversation is moving at rapid fire pace now.

'There is a surgery that could be done, though it has only about a thirty percent chance of working. Af-' I get cut short by Brad.

'Well, you're going to have the surgery done, right? I mean, they have to atleast try to save him' he says.

'Yes, Brad, we're going to do the surgery. I'm going to call the morgue after I call Mark and let him know what's going on. As soon as I know when the surgery is, I'll let you know' I say.

'Just one more question, where are they going to keep Randy until the surgery?' he asks.

'I don't know, I didn't think to ask' I answer.

'Oh. Okay, well, I'll let you go now so you can call Mark' Brad says.

After we both say our goodbyes, I dial Mark's number.

He doesn't answer, so I just leave a message on his machine explaining what's going on as best as I can.

I then place the call to the morgue.

'Hello, Detroit Medical Examiner's office, Erica speaking, how may I help you?' answers a woman.

'This is Jill Taylor, my husband and I were in the morgue about an hour ago. Dr. Weiss said I was supposed to call this number when we had made a decision on whether or not our son, Randy Taylor, was going to have a surgery performed' I say, not really knowing what exactly to say.

'Oh yes, Dr. Weiss told me to be expecting a call from you. Could you hold on just a moment? I'm going to put you on park while I go get Dr. Weiss. He specifically requested to talk to you' she says.

What the hell is park anyways? I thought that's what you did to a car before you get out.

After a few minutes of being on "park", Dr. Weiss comes on the line.

'Hello, Mrs. Taylor, are you still there?' he answers.

'Yes I am. We've decided to go ahead and have the surgery done on Randy' I say right off the bat.

'Okay. I'll go ahead and call Dr. Mueller and let him know so he can set a date. Did you have any specific time or day in mind?' asks Dr. Weiss.

'Yeah, as soon as possible' I answer, trying not to sound like I'm barking at him.

'Okay. I'll be sure to relay that to Dr. Mueller. Whenever we have a date and time set, I'll call you on your cellphone' Dr. Weiss says.

'Alright. Thank you for everything' I say.

Well, there's nothing left that I can do now. Everything is all up to the team of surgeons and ultimately God now.

* * *

A/N: Jill's last statement is wrong. Everything is all up to the team of surgeons, God, and ultimately _me_.

Oh, and please don't stress too much on Mark not answering the phone, he just isn't home. Nothing's happened to him.

Please read and review or something might have to happen to Mark.

Thanks for reading.

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor


	9. Chapter 7: Drive In, Drive Out

Crash Chapter 7

"Drive In, Drive Out"

**About An Hour Later**

Jill's POV

I'm laying down on the couch, getting absolutely no rest whatsoever, when my cell phone begins vibrating like crazy. That snaps me out of my daze, and I jump up when I remember that it could be Dr. Weiss calling to tell me when Randy's surgery will be.

'Hello' I answer quickly.

'This is Dr. Weiss. I just finished speaking with Dr. Mueller. The first available time for your son's surgery is at 9:00 tomorrow morning. Something else ocurred to me after I spoke with you. If you and your husband wanted to come down to the morgue and sit with Randy, that would be alright' Dr. Weiss says.

'Uh...Yes, I think that Tim and I would like to do that. Is there a certain time we should be there by?' I ask.

'No, I'll be here all night tonight. Just knock on the doors, and tell the security guard that you came to see me. He should let you in' Dr. Weiss instructs.

'Okay. We'll be there as soon as possible' I say, then hang up.

'Tim!' I shout on my way upstairs.

'What?' he shouts back.

'I just got a call from Dr. Weiss. He said that Randy's surgery will be at nine tomorrow morning. He also said that if we wanted to, we could go back to the morgue and sit with Randy' I say. Within milliseconds, Tim is sitting up and searching for his socks and shoes.

'I'll call Mark, Brad, and Lauren on the way over' I say more or less to myself.

'Should we pick up Lauren on the way over?' Tim asks.

'I don't see why not if she wants us to' I say, putting on my own socks and tennis shoes now.

'I'll go ahead and call her' I say on the way downstairs.

'Hello' Lauren answers.

'Lauren, it's Jill. Dr. Weiss just called here a couple of minutes ago. He said Randy's surgery will be tomorrow morning at nine o'clock. But, Dr. Weiss also said that Tim and I could go to the morgue and sit with Randy. Would you like to join us?' I say before Lauren gets the chance to say anything else.

'Yes. What time will you be here?' she asks.

'In about twenty minutes' I estimate.

'I'll be outside waiting' Lauren says.

After I hang up, I dial Brad's number. (By this time Tim and I are on the road).

'What is it?' Brad asks immediately. He must have recognized my number.

'Randy's surgery is going to be at nine o'clock tomorrow morning' I say.

'Where at?' he asks.

'Detroit Memorial' I respond.

'I'll get ready to head to Detroit after I get off the phone' Brad says.

'Okay. Do you know where the medical examiner's office is at? Your father and I will be there, sitting with Randy' I ask.

'No, I don't' Brad answers.

'Just go to Detroit Memorial's ER entrance, and go south for about five miles' I explain.

'Okay. I'll be there around eleven thirty or midnight' he says.

'Alright. There'll be someone there to let you in' I say, then start to hang up.

'What about Mark? Is he driving in from Cleveland?' Brad asks.

'I haven't talked with him yet. I'm sure he will try to drive in in time for the surgery' I say.

'See you later' he says.

'Okay' I say.

Lastly I dial Mark's number.

'Hello' he answers.

'Hi Mark, it's mom. Did you get my message about Randy earlier?' I ask.

'Yeah, did you find something out?' he asks.

'Randy's surgery will be tomorrow morning at nine' I tell him.

'I'll be there. I don't know when or how, but I'll be there' Mark says. I can tell from the tone of his voice that come hell or high water that that kid is going to be here by nine tomorrow morning.

'If you get here before seven, then just go to the morgue. Your father and I will be there, sitting with Randy. Brad will probably be there too' I say.

'I'm on my way' he says.

By the time I finish talking with Mark, Tim has pulled up to Lauren's apartment building. She comes jogging towards the car, and gets in the backseat. Then we're off to the morgue for the third time today.

* * *

A/N: I'll post the next chapter tomorrow, and it will mainly feature the surgery, but will also have a couple other things in there. It's going to skip ahead to right before the surgery.

I need to think Baxxie for giving me the idea for this chapter.

And if things got somewhat repetitive in this chapter, sorry. I tried to mix things up as much as possible.

Please R&R if you want to know how the surgery goes.

Thanks for reading.

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor


	10. Chapter 8: Once On a Wild Afternoon

Crash Chapter 8

"Once on a Wild Afternoon"

Third Person POV

'Good luck Randy' Mark and Brad say, one after the other.

'We'll be waiting for you' Tim says to his middle son.

'We love you Randy. Everything will turn out alright' Jill says, walking along side the moving hospital bed.

* * *

Randy's POV

I hope mom's right about everything turning out alright. If she isn't and the surgery fails, then I hope someone calls Dr. Kevorkian for me.

But for now I just need to think positive. I just need to pray that this surgery works.

The nurse back in the pre-op room said something that really surprised me. She said that just in case I'm conscious, they're going to put me under general anesthesia, rather than just some really strong pain medicine.

I'm already starting to feel a little loopy from something that they put in my IV to relax me. (Not sure if it's Xanax or Prozac or what, but it sure makes you feel like you just don't give a shit.

Now I'm back in the OR, and the nurses and doctors are getting ready to move me over to the operating table.

* * *

Sometime Later

Randy's POV

I'm going to assume the surgery was a success. I'm able to move my arms and legs and I'm able to sit up.

Oh, here comes mom and dad now with Mark, Lauren, and Brad right behind them.

'Hey, mom, dad! The surgery worked, I can move now!' I say excitedly.

They don't respond, but mom just starts crying when she looks my direction. Dad just hugs her really tightly and sheds a few tears himself. Lauren is crying as well. Mark looks depressed, and Brad just looks like he doesn't know what to do.

I try shouting at them, but still no response.

Then a man walks over to me. He's maybe in his mid-forties and has black hair. He looks strangely familiar.

'Could you keep it down? It's not like they can hear you anyways Randy' the man says. How does he know my name?

'Who are you?' I ask.

'Michael Taylor' the man says with a smile.

'But...the...the only Michael Taylor that I know is...dead' I stutter.

'Yes, that would be me' he says.

'But then that would mean that I'm dead. Which means that the...what happened? The surgery didn't work. I thought the surgery would work! How did I die?' I ask, shouting once again.

'I always knew you had a great set of lungs Randy' another man's voice says. I turn around to see mom's father standing there. This is too weird.

'Hi Fred, how are you?' Michael, grandpa Taylor I suppose I should say, asks grandpa Patterson.

'Oh, alright I suppose. I thought when I died I'd get some peace and quiet but ever since Lillian died, she's always bugging me about traveling here and traveling there. So what if I don't want to go yet? We have the rest of eternity to travel' grandpa says.

'Well at least you're able to be with the woman you married. I haven't been able to have a normal conversation with Lucille since the Johnson administration' grandpa #2 says.

'Could we?' I ask, imitating dad.

'Thank you. Now, what is going on here? I've figured out so far that I'm dead. How did I die is the next question I guess' I say.

'Well it's simple Randy. You just go back in time to the last event you remember. Then you can witness what happened' grandpa numbers 1 and 2 explain.

'And how would I go about doing that?' I ask.

'Well it's simple Randy' they say again. Everything must be simple when you're dead. 'Just think of nothing other than that date, time, and place, and walk through a wall. This also works for the future'.

I concentrate really hard on the date of Tuesday October 3, 2006. I start thinking about being wheeled back to the operating room at Detroit Memorial.

Then I walk through the wall and...

There I am, in the large pre-op room that I last saw mom, dad, Lauren, Brad, and Mark in.

'We love you Randy. Everything will be alright' I see and hear mom say to me. Well, the other me.

I hurry up and follow the gurney back to the chilly OR. (Yes, I may be dead, but I can still feel heat and lack there of).

I stand and watch the surgery for about an hour and a half until something interesting happens. Someone cuts something that they shouldn't have, and I start bleeding.

'Well we have two options. One, stop the bleeding and hope that we can repair the damage or two, we can continue with the operation first, and then try to stop the bleeding later, since it isn't bleeding very much' one doctor says.

'I say we go with option one' the head surgeon says.

'You want option one' another person/spirit/ghost/being says to me.

'Yeah, but how does that help me? I can't tell them what to do. I'm a ghost, remember?' I say to the stranger.

'Watch and learn' she says to me.

She goes running directly into the body of the top surgeon there after muttering some sort of incantation.

'On second thought, let's stop the bleeding, then resume the operation' the (posessed?) surgeon says.

Once again, the spirit rejoins me.

'Now this is all hunky dory and peachy keen, but what's going to happen to me now that I'm alive? I can't just stay an empty shell' I say.

'Kid, you'd better be glad you're not going to be a spirit yet. You still have a lot to learn' she says, then wanders off.

'Thank you' I yell as she walks through one of the walls. It's a half sarcastic, half serious thank you.

The rest of the surgery passes uneventfully.

At the end, the heart monitor starts its shrill beep. Before I have a chance to see what's going on, a force sucks me through one of the OR's walls. After that, I'm surrounded entirely by blackness, and it almost feels like I'm being sucked into a vacuum or something. I free fall for an unmeasurable amount of time. It could've been ten seconds, of ten millenia as far as I know.

'Randy...Randy...Wake up Randy. The surgery is over. It was a success' I can hear an oh so familiar voice say. Who is it?

'The doctors said you woke up for a moment in recovery, but you weren't lucid at all' the voice says. Mom! It's mom's voice!

* * *

A/N: So, that was a bit of a twist, huh? I had one of my friends read this, and I really had him going for a minute. Like I would actually end the story this early in to it.

First off, I need to thank Lee Sinins for kind fo giving me the idea for Randy's dream.

Secondly, I know Randy may seem a little OOC at the beginning of the chapter when he says that the Prozac/Xanax/whatever makes him feel like he just doesn't give a shit. I tried to write that using "damn", but it just didn't have the same power to it. I guess maybe I should've put in a warning, but oh well.

Please R&R.

Thanks for reading.

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor


	11. Chapter 9: Recently

Crash Chapter 9

"Recently"

Randy's POV

'So what's going to happen now?' I try to ask, but wind up whispering and slurring the question.

'Don't try to talk yet. Let me go get the doctor' mom says. She's gone a few minutes, and then returns with...two of the doctors from my dreams!

'Randy, this is Dr. Mueller' she says, pointing towards one of the doctors who was in the OR in my dream 'and this is Dr. Reed' she says, pointing to the man I recognize as the head surgeon who was possessed.

'Randy, it'll be a little bit before you'll be able to talk, but when you feel up to it, go ahead and try. Until then, you can write on this notepad' Dr. Reed instructs. I nod my head slightly.

'We'll be back later on' Dr. Mueller says.

'You probably recognize my voice because I examined you over at the morgue' he then adds when he sees the look of recognition on my face.

Not long after the doctors leave, I drift off to sleep.

* * *

Four Days Later

Randy's POV

I just got home from the hospital. Well, not technically home, since the general consensus was that I should stay with mom and dad. I didn't let on to this, but deep deep down, I agree. I don't think I'm mentally or physically ready to stay by myself yet.

I've been having the creepiest nightmares since the surgery. I'll dream that I'm trapped in a corpse and that as time goes by, it gets increasingly harder for me to breathe. According to dad, I actually woke up gasping for air one time. But that's not all that happens in the dreams. Sometimes I'll see Dr. Weiss standing over my body, and he'll start cutting things off. Like he'll cut off all my toes on one foot, then start on the next. The scariest one yet is when he actually got a Binford 6100 chainsaw and had sawed half way through my kneecap before I woke up.

But Dr. Mueller said that the nightmares are normal. Yeah, easy for him to say, he isn't the one having them. No, but seriously, he said that anyone who has been through a traumatic experience such as that has bad nightmares. I thought that kind of thing only happened to war veterans. I think I'd rather have fought in Vietnam than have gone through what I did.

Something weird happened at the hospital. Somebody (who only identified them self as a close acquaintance) gave me a Stephen King book titled "Everything's Eventual: 14 Dark Tales". This wouldn't be so weird, but they stuck a bookmark at the very beginning of the first story, Autopsy Room Four. This story's plot is eerily similar to what I went through. Waking up and not being able to move. (I know this because I have the original book this story came out in). It creeped me out too much to keep it (even though I do like Stephen King), so I had dad take it to a used bookstore and give it to them, bookmark and all.

Right now I'm laying down on the couch, while mom is in the kitchen, making tomato soup for me. (No matter what ailment you have, it seems like mothers always want you to eat soup, even if it's 120 degrees outside).

It seems like I've been sitting a lot lately. Not doing anything else, just sitting, staring off into space. What'll happen is, I'll start to think about something that happened when I was a prisoner of sorts in my own body, then whether I want it to or not, my brain will start obsessing over the fact that I almost died. I try not to think about that unless I have to though, because it freaks mom out whenever I start spacing out like that. Truth is, it freaks me out too.

Taking a bath or doing any activity which requires me to take my shirt off practically sends me into a meltdown because of the scar on my abdomen where Jonathan Weiss made the incision for my almost autopsy.

'Randy, are you alright?' I hear mom ask all of a sudden.

'Yeah. Oh, I'm sorry, am I doing it again?' I answer. I already know what she means by "am I alright".

'Yes. I know I've said this several times before, but it freaks me out to no end when you sit there and stare off in to space like that' mom says.

I may be able to move now, but I still have a very long road ahead of me to recover completely and become the person I once was, if I can ever become the person I once was. Hopefully no one will come crash into me on the road to recovery.

* * *

A/N: Sorry on two counts. One, for this being such a short chapter. Two, for this chapter being so similar to another one of my stories, Randy's Thoughts. Not that there's anything wrong with Randy's Thoughts, I just try to have a little more live action in chapters for the other stories.

I need to give a huge thank you to Baxxie for giving me not only ideas for this chapter, but also for several more chapters in this story.

Please R&R, I really appreciate getting reviews, good or bad.

Thanks for reading.

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor


	12. Chapter 10: When the World Ends

Crash Chapter 10

"When the World Ends"

Randy's POV

It's been a week now since I had that surgery done. Nine days since I was in the wreck.

Right now I'm reading in the backyard, just to try to get away from mom (but not **too** far away).

Mark left earlier today to go back to Cleveland, and Brad left yesterday to return to Wisconsin.

I'm still having those nightmares. Not that I expected them to go away immediately or anything, but still, how long will they last?

'Heidi ho neighbor' Wilson says. I didn't even hear him come outside.

'Hi Wilson' I say.

'So, how's the recovery process coming?' Wilson asks.

'Well, physically, I'm doing good, but I'm still a wreck mentally' I answer. I can already tell the route this conversation is going to take, so I put my bookmark in my book, and sit it next to my glass of lemonade.

'That's not unnatural for someone who has been through the type of experience you have' he says.

'I just don't understand why my brain keeps dwelling on the fact that I almost died. I've accepted the truth, or at least I think I have' I object.

'What is the truth? I think that you need to understand the truth before your dreams will stop. From what I can understand, the truth is that those doctors worked a miracle on you' Wilson says.

'They just did their jobs. The doctors found out what was wrong with me, and fixed it. There was no miracle involved' I argue, trying to play down the miracle thing.

'But it is a miracle. This surgery has only been attempted three other times before you, and you are the first to survive. The other three persons died an agonizing death, and in more ways than one' Wilson explains.

'Okay, so even if I am able to accept the fact that what happened was a miracle in the eyes of modern medicine, I think there is still more to the truth. The truth is, I came so close to death, that it has both scared and scarred me. I mean, it just seems like I'm more vulnerable to death than I was before' I say.

'Randy, you still have plenty of your life ahead of you' Wilson says.

'Yeah. Or I could die tomorrow' I say.

'What did you just say?' Wilson asks, looking at me like I've lost my mind.

'I said "Yeah. Or I could die tomorrow" I repeat myself.

'Your father and I had a similar discussion almost fourteen years ago. The thing is, what you just said, that you could die tomorrow, is the exact same thing he told me. Right down to the "Yeah" Wilson says.

'Really? Oh, was that when mom was trying to get him to make a will?' I ask. Wilson nods.

'But the difference is, he hadn't gone through anything like I have when he said that. I could seriously die tomorrow' I say.

'Couldn't we all?' Wilson asks.

'I'm reminded of the words of Dave Matthews. He said in one of his songs "Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die". I guess maybe that's a line we should all remember' I say.

'Well, I need to get back inside before the nerve gas guy comes. I can't believe that I have bats in my attic again' Wilson says, abruptly ending our conversation.

I step down from the fence, half of me feeling comforted, the other half feeling somewhat morbid, but mainly terrified to think that Wilson's right, and that anyone could die tomorrow, myself or Wilson or dad or mom or anyone I know included.

I grab my glass and book, and walk back inside. Once inside, it's not even two minutes, until a hard rain starts falling. Lightning is soon to follow. It almost looks like it's in the backyard. Maybe I'm being too pessimistic, but I take that as an omen of things to come, not only for me, but for the entire family. After all, lightning may not strike the same place twice, but all it takes is one bolt to start a raging wildfire.

* * *

A/N: How's those last five paragraphs as food for thought? I was actually getting creeped out by some of that stuff, and I thought up a good ninety five percent of it. I can guarantee that that kind of stuff is going to be a recurring theme throughout the rest of this story, right up to the author's note of the epilogue. (Which I have already written).

Wow, I'm still so creeped out by that, I don't really know what to say.

Please R&R, and thanks for reading.

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor

* * *

A/N from 9/9/08: I just wanted to add that I updated Randy's Thoughts twice yesterday in honor of Jonathan Taylor Thomas' birthday. I'm updating this one today in honor of my own birthday. I will, however, only update this one once.

-Yours truly, Randy "Birthday Boy" Taylor


	13. Chapter 11: Looking At You

Crash Chapter 11

"Looking at You"

Randy's POV

After what Wilson said a couple of days ago, I've been doing research on dreams and nightmares, and have dug up some really interesting, and hopefully useful facts.

For instance, I found out that whenever someone is snoring, that person cannot be dreaming. It doesn't really apply to my situation, since I don't snore, but is interesting nonetheless.

I did find out that what Wilson said about needing to face the truth about my situation is correct. Well, at least half correct, anyways. Apparently someone who has recurring dreams/nightmares about something needs to face that situation to end the nightmares, or something to that effect. That's all fine and hunky dory, but how can I face my situation? What do I do, walk into a morgue and say "Hey, I need someone here to saw halfway through my kneecap with a Binford 6100 Power Chainsaw". They'd lock me up in the psycho ward.

All of a sudden, I'm snapped out of my thoughts when I hear a knock at the door. I get up from the couch where I was trying to read, and walk to the door. (I'm still staying with mom and dad).

'Hi, is Randy Taylor here?' the man at the door asks. I immediately recognize him as the owner of the restaurant where I was supposed to be proposing to Lauren on our ten year anniversary of meeting.

'Yes, I'm Randy Taylor' I answer.

'Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't recognize you at first. Anyways, I'm here to drop off that ring that you brought by to me. Since you cancelled your reservations, I figured it'd be safer for me to give it back to you for now. If you ever do decide that you want to go through with your plans, just come by with the ring and let me know' the man, Anthony, says.

'Okay. Thanks for bringing this by' I say.

I stash the ring away in my secret hiding place here, and head up to Brad's old bedroom, thinking all the while about one sentence the man said. Has my appearance changed so much that a man I spoke with three weeks ago doesn't recognize me?

Once I get to the bedroom, I flip on the lights, and close the door incase mom and dad get back from the mall before I'm finished doing what I want to do.

I then walk over in front of the full length mirror, and look myself over. My appearance has changed. I look much more "worn", for lack of a better word, than I did just a few weeks ago. The stress and pressure of recovering is quite visible.

Here comes the hardest part. I take off my sweater, and then summon up the courage to look at my reflection. My eyes start out at my head, and slowly travel down my body. Midway through my torso, they automatically skip down to my groin area, so as to avoid the scar. I will them to move up the part of my abdomen where Dr. Weiss made the autopsy incision. I immediately want to look away whenever I see the red line, but force my eyes to stay there.

I stare at the line intently, and soon I have a whole rush of emotions. I want to look away (still), I start getting dizzy and lightheaded, I feel like I'm going to throw up, and I feel like just sitting down and crying. After a couple of seconds, or perhaps minutes, I bring my hand nearer and nearer to the scar. When I touch the skin around the scar, I want to move my hand about a million miles away, but I don't. When I touch the actual scar itself, I nearly jump out of my own skin. I can't stand touching the scar for too long, so I pull my hand away, and move over to the bed where I sat my sweater a few minutes ago.

Just as I go to put my sweater back on, it's like something commands me to get closer and closer to the mirror. Against my own will, I take a couple steps toward the antique mirror. When I regain control over my legs, I take one big step backwards. Then it's like a giant hand comes out of the mirror, grabs my body, and yanks it nearer to the mirror.

The last thing I can remember is either throwing my self into the glass, or being thrown into the glass. Either way, the cuts from the glass hurt like hell, and everything soon goes black.

* * *

A/N: These chapters just keep getting creepier and creepier. I for one would like to know where my brain comes up with these ideas. Honestly, the fact that I'm writing some of the things I'm writing scares the hell out of me, because I'm not typically a dark person, but for some reason, this stuff keeps coming out. There are spots in here where I'm shocking my self.

But anyways, you all need to focus on Randy, not the author. Okay, let me rephrase that. You all need to focus on the character of Randy in this story, not the author Randy.

This chapter did take a bit longer to write than what I originally intended, but I had to do a little bit of dream research of my own.

This is going to sound odd, but I need to kind of thank a scar of my own (the one from when my gallbladder was removed) for helping me come up with the emotions and feelings to write this chapter. I actually dropped the handheld mirror I was looking at it in when I was trying to come up with ideas.

Please R&R if you want this story to get even weirder. (At least for a while).

Thanks for reading.

Oh, and by the way, the reason I'm updating all my stories today is because I have to have yet another surgery done on my nose. This is supposed to be the final one though.

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor


	14. Chapter 12: What Would You Say?

Crash Chapter 12

"What Would You Say?"

Jill's POV

Tim and I get back from the mall around 4:30. When I walk into the house, I don't see Randy anywhere in the living room, so I decide to check the bathrooms. He's not there either, so I check the basement, and when he's not there, I check outside, and even ask Wilson if he's seen Randy recently. Then it dawns on me that there's one room I didn't think to check. The room that used to be Brad and Randy's.

When I walk in there, I see a truly gory site. Randy is laying on the ground with his shirt off, the glass on the antique full length mirror I inherited when mom died is broken, and Randy is lying in a large pool of blood.

'Tim! Tim! You need to get up here! Tim!' Is all I can shout. I want to say more, but can't come up with any words to say.

The next thing I'm aware of is Tim's footsteps on the stairs, and then Tim being right behind me.

'I'll call 9-1-1' he mumbles. I just nod my head, and try to dry my tear soaked eyes. It's funny; I don't even remember beginning to cry.

I wonder what happened. The only thing I can really think of is to think that he must have been looking at something in the mirror, lost his balance, and fell into the glass.

When I look up, Tim is doing something to Randy.

'What are you doing?' I ask.

'Checking for a pulse' he answers. I nod my head. Why didn't I think of that? Probably because I'm a grade A nutcase right now, that's why.

I sit there in the bedroom, looking at Randy, crying, waiting, walking the line between bull blown hysterics and 100 percent insanity. After what seems like about 10 millennia, the paramedics arrive. They check his vitals, make sure he isn't bleeding any more (at least on the outside), and put him on a gurney and cart him off to the ambulance. Tim decides I should ride with Randy to the hospital, and that he could just drive over, following the ambulance.

* * *

At the Hospital

Jill's POV

Right now the doctors are working Randy over. He's cut up real bad, which I knew when I first saw him, but he'll be alright.

'Excuse me, Mrs. Taylor' one of Randy's doctors says.

'Yes' I say.

'Your son has lost a lot of blood. We'll have to do a transfusion, but unfortunately your son has AB negative blood. Just over a sixtieth percent of the US population has AB negative blood, and unfortunately we don't have any AB negative blood in our blood bank. We could use O negative, which is sort of a "universal blood type", but it can be risky. What I'm trying to ask here is, do you or your husband have the same blood type as Randy?' Dr. Mitchell explains.

'No, I'm AB positive, and Tim is O negative' I answer.

'Okay. I'll see if I can track down anyone who is a match' the doctor says, then walks away.

Do I know anybody that could be a match? Brad isn't, and neither is Mark. I wonder…I wonder if Wilson is a match. It's worth a shot, right?

I tell Tim where I'm going, and go call Wilson on a payphone.

'Hello' Wilson answers.

'Hi Wilson. It's Jill. Randy was in a little accident at the house. He fell into a mirror and got cut up real badly. He needs a blood transfusion, but the hospital doesn't have any blood that matches his in their blood bank. What's your blood type?' I ask.

'I don't think I'd be too much help, I'm AB negative, which is one of the rarest blood types out there' Wilson says. When I hear this, I literally jump up and down, causing the bystanders to look at me like I've lost my mind. I ignore them.

'That's exactly the type we need. Could you come down here and donate some please?' I ask.

'Certainly. I'll be there in twenty minutes' Wilson says.

'I'll let the doctors know you're on your way' I say.

I hang up the phone, then practically run to Randy's room to let the doctors know I've found a donor.

* * *

A/N: Okay, so yeah, I doubt in real life Wilson would be able to just walk in to the hospital and donate blood to save Randy's life, but you're overlooking two very important facts here:

1. This is an emergency situation.

2. I'm the one who's writing this, so things will go the way I want them to.

Anyways, please R&R.

Thanks for reading.

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor


	15. Chapter 13: Crush

Crash Chapter 13

"Crush"

A/N: Okay, so I'm going to get this out of the way right here and now. Last chapter Colin Creevey called me out on something that I was actually hoping someone would. I said that using type O blood, which is a universal type, could be risky. Well, I lied. In reality, Randy would probably be pumped full of O blood, but I wrote what I wrote, as always, for the sake of the story. Hey, at least I have a reason for my lies :)

-For now, yours truly, Randy Taylor

* * *

Jill's POV

The doctors are in the middle of doing Randy's blood transfusion right now. They used Wilson's blood, and were able to find a nurse who had AB negative blood. I guess Randy really did lose a lot of blood. I shouldn't be too surprised since I was right in the middle of the huge pool of his blood at home, but I guess none of that registered.

Only when I think of this do I think to look down at my self. I have so much of Randy's blood on me, it looks like I need a transfusion too. I guess that might explain some of the strange looks I've been getting.

I'd like to know what happened to Randy. He probably just lost his balance or something. This type of thing is exactly why I was so adamant about Randy not going home to his apartment immediately after the surgery. If he'd been at his apartment, he could've bled out, and no one would've known for a couple of days probably.

'Hi Mrs. Taylor, I'm Dr. Maura Lockhart. We're almost finished transfusing your son, and so far, it's been a success. We've also irrigated and stitched up the cuts your son received. It'll be a while before Randy regains consciousness, but we'll keep you posted' one of Randy's doctors says.

'Okay, thanks' I say.

When Tim gets back from the bathroom about ten minutes later, I tell him I'm going to go get a cup of coffee. I return a few minutes later, and sit down again. I've only been sitting for a few minutes when a voice comes over the PA.

'All available nurses and doctors report to trauma room 2 stat' the voice says.

'Oh my God! Tim, that's where Randy is!' I shout. We jump up from the plastic chairs we've been sitting in, and go running off in the direction of the trauma room.

When we get there, we see the room filled with doctors and nurses, all running around grabbing things out of drawers and other rooms, and we see even more doctors and nurses running towards the room.

'What's going on?' I shout over the chaos.

'Your son has a hemothorax' explains a passing nurse.

'It means he has blood in his chest cavity' the nurse says.

'Is it serious?' Tim asks.

'Yes, but treatable. We'll have to do a procedure called a tube thoracostomy to drain the blood out. If we can we'll remove the source of the bleeding; if not, we'll have to perform surgery to close off the bleeding' the nurse says.

The chest tube must not have worked, because after a few minutes, the doctors are readying Randy's bed to be moved.

'What's going on?' I ask for the second time in only a few minutes.

'It turns out your son actually has a hemopneumothorax, which means he has both blood and air in his chest cavity. If we don't get the source of the blood and air cut off, his lungs could collapse' a doctor explains.

'He's tachy at 110. Get him back to the trauma room' someone announces while waiting for the elevator.

A/N: Yeah, it's a little short, but I'm starting to run out of ideas for this story as well. (But don't worry, I have more stories planned!)

* * *

Sorry about using all the medical terminology in this chapter, but I just can't seem to stay away from the medical genre when it comes to fan fiction. If you do have any questions about some of the words or conditions, just ask.

Please R&R.

Thanks for reading.

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor


	16. Chapter 14: On This Sweet Up and Down

Crash Chapter 14

"On This Sweet Up and Down"

Jill's POV

This can't be good. Randy was supposed to have been out of surgery an hour and a half ago, and still no word from anyone on what's going on.

After another five minutes, a doctor comes walking out into the waiting room. She walks over to Tim and me.

'Mr. and Mrs. Taylor? Hi, I'm Dr. Angie Elessedil' she introduces herself. 'Your son is out of surgery now. It took longer than planned because we discovered his gallbladder was also bleeding, so we had to perform an emergency cholecystectomy on Randy to stop the bleeding. He will have to stay in the hospital for about three weeks to recover from the cuts, the hemopneumothorax, and the cholecystectomy. He's back in recovery right now. You should be able to see him in about an hour's time. Do you have any questions about anything?'

'Will he need some sort of special dog now?' Tim asks. Dr. Elessedil looks at Tim like he's lost his mind. Then she shakes her head.

'Okay, I'll be back in an hour to take you and your husband back to the post-op area' she says. Then adds 'Oh, and he was kidding about the dog, wasn't he?'

'It's hard to tell' I answer. She laughs at that.

As the doctor walks away, something occurs to me.

'We never told Mark, Brad, or Lauren about any of this!' I tell Tim.

'I'll go and get them up to date' I say.

* * *

About an Hour Later

Randy's POV

'I know you just woke up, but…what exactly happened between you and the mirror?' mom asks after I've woken up, had a couple of ice chips, and the nurse has taken care of the routine post-op things.

'I was looking at my reflection when…it's like something…pulled me into the mirror. That's the last thing I can remember' I explain.

'Why was you looking at your reflection?' dad asks.

'It's kind of a long story. There's this guy that owns a restaurant downtown that came by to return a ring to me. See, before the car accident, I'd planned to take Lauren there and propose to her, but that obviously didn't work out. When he came by, he didn't recognize me at all, so I decided to go upstairs and see just how different I really looked. Then, I don't know why, but I decided to look at the scar where Dr. Weiss had made the incision to do my almost autopsy. Then that's when I fell in' I say.

'Does anybody else know what happened to me?' I ask.

'Yeah, Brad, Mark, Lauren, and Wilson all do' mom replies.

I can't believe that this kind of stuff keeps happening to me. What was it I told Wilson a few days ago? Lightning may only strike the same place once, but all it takes is one bolt to start a raging wild fire. I hope that's not what's happening now. I hope this isn't that wild fire spreading.

* * *

A/N: Is this the wild fire spreading?

You'll have to R&R (please!) to find out.

Sorry about the long wait between updates, but it just took me a while to really decide what I wanted to do with this chapter. I'll try to have the next one up much quicker. (I won't make any promises, but maybe by Saturday or Sunday).

Thanks for reading, and thanks for not complaining to me about not having updated in almost a month. (Though maybe that's what I needed to get motivated). :P

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor


	17. Chapter 15: Grace is Gone

Crash Chapter 15

"Grace is Gone"

Randy's POV

It's been a couple of weeks now since I fell into the mirror. I'm recovering alright physically, but there's another thing I get to add to my fears now; mirrors. Every time I walk by a mirror now, even if someone is in the general vicinity, I always make a conscious effort not to let my eyes get anywhere near the glass. It makes it damn hard to brush my hair.

I'm beginning to think at this rate, I'll never be able to go back to my apartment. Hey, at least it'd make mom happy.

'What time did Lauren say she'd be by here honey?' mom asks.

'She said she'd be here around three' I say.

'Did she say what she wanted?' mom asks.

'No, but she's probably just coming by to see how I'm doing' I say.

A few minutes later, there's a knock at the door. Mom goes to answer it so I don't have to get up off the couch, since pretty much my whole body hurts now.

'Hi Randy, how are you doing?' Lauren asks, taking a seat in the living room.

'Better. Well, physically, that is. Now I'm even more freaked out when I look at my stomach' I tell her.

'I came by because I wanted to talk to you about something. Now, before you say anything, hear me out. Yesterday our boss from _The Detroit Free Press_ called. He, like everyone else in the tri-county region does, knows about what has happened to you over the past month. Even so, he asked me to join this group of journalists who are going to cover Saddam Hussein's execution in two weeks' Lauren says. I feel like I just got kicked in the stomach.

'When do you leave?' I manage to ask.

'Eleven days from now' she answers.

'I want to go with you' I state.

'I really don't think you should Randy, it wouldn't be good for your health' Lauren says.

'She's right honey. What if something happens to you over there?' mom says, appearing out of thin air.

'What if something happens to Lauren over there?' I ask. No one has an answer to that question.

'Alright, listen, if it makes you feel any better, I'll talk to Steve and tell him I can't go' Lauren offers.

'No, I don't want you to do that; I want to go with you. I mean, there's only going to be one execution of Saddam Hussein' I say.

'Unfortunately, that's not an option' mom tells me.

'How long will you be over there?' I ask.

'Four days. More like two and a half really, because the plane leaves on the morning of the fourth day, and of course I don't get there until night on the first day. Then you throw in sleeping and time zone changes, it's really not that long' Lauren says. I don't care. Half a millisecond is too long for her to be there in my opinion.

'You know, maybe I should go ahead and leave. I'll talk to Steve about this assignment' Lauren says.

'What'll matter? It's not like the ambassador can ask them to hold off on executing their tyrant of a former leader because an injured reporter from _The Detroit Free Press_ wants to be able to make the sojourn with his reporter girlfriend' I say. I almost said fiancée instead of girlfriend. I've got to get this whole thing off my chest and out in the open. I especially need to say something about this now just incase something does happen and Lauren doesn't come back from Iraq.

'Well, I'll see you later Randy' Lauren says on her way out.

'Wait! Uh, there's something _I _need to talk to _you _about.' I stand up and hobble over to where Lauren is, wincing a couple of times, which I know will not make a good case for myself to be going over to Iraq. I reach into my pocket and dare myself to pull out the small black box. I get down on one knee, sending searing waves of pain shooting through my body in the process. 'Lauren Johnson, will you marry me?' Dad walks in right as I finish asking the question. He looks at mom for an answer, and she gives him a shrug.

* * *

Lauren's POV

Oh my God. I can't believe that…that Randy just asked me to marry him. What do I say? I know the silence must be killing him. Surely he's figured out the answer by now.

'No. I mean, no, not right now. This isn't going to change anything about the assignment' I say. I feel so bad. I feel bad about myself, and I feel bad for Randy. But there's just no way I can say yes right now. It doesn't feel right. Randy is doing this out of desperation. Okay, maybe not desperation, but he's doing this because he's afraid I'll go over to Iraq and get blown up by some car bomb, and that's the wrong reason to propose and the wrong reason to say yes. I think Randy should just go back to his original plan to propose at The Blue Note. (My uncle's restaurant).

Randy looks hurt and disappointed. I guess I would be too, but my reasons for saying no are good ones, and I don't feel like I have to justify them to anyone but me. That may make it sound like I'm being a bitch, but I'm not going to start out a marriage by lying, because that'll only lead to more lying, which will ultimately lead to no good.

'Okay, forget about it, it's a bad idea' Randy blurts out, still kneeling on the floor, though he looks like he may pass out any minute. God, what have I done? The poor guy killed himself trying to get over here and down on one knee, and how do I repay him? By destroying his hope, morale, dignity, self esteem, and will to live all in one word.

Mrs. Taylor looks like she wants to say something, but doesn't because I guess there's really nothing for a parent to say in a situation like this. I feel very out of place right now.

'I guess I'll be going then' I whisper to Mr. and Mrs. Taylor. I don't have the courage or nerve to say anything to Randy. I think he thinks he's heard enough from me for now.

* * *

A/N: So I know everyone is freaking out right now and probably wondering what the hell I'm thinking. Look, I'm sorry that it took me this long to update. Oh, you mean what the hell am I thinking about having Lauren say no to Randy's marriage proposal. I see. I had a huge fight with myself over this one. Half of me wanted to do it, half of me didn't, and the other half of me wondered why there's three halves of me.

Seriously though, reasons for things that happened in this chapter will become more evident as the story progresses.

I also want to say that I hope I didn't offend anybody with my references of Saddam Hussein in this chapter. I just needed some big time news event to…well, I won't say any more because it will spoil the story. But in all seriousness, if I have offended anyone, I am genuinely sorry.

Please R&R if you think that Lauren did the wrong thing. You can read and review as well if you think Lauren did the right thing.

Thanks for reading everybody.

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor


	18. Chapter 16: Pantala Naga Pampa

Crash Chapter 16

"Pantala Naga Pampa"

Randy's POV

I can't believe it. She didn't even give me an explanation for saying no. You know, maybe I'm glad she didn't say yes. Yeah, just maybe I am. Oh who am I kidding? Of course I wanted her to say yes.

'Randy, honey, are you alright?' mom asks.

'Yeah, why wouldn't I be alright?' I ask, sniffling and fighting back tears.

'Well you just uh…Well you certainly have no…If you're upset that's okay' mom finally decides to say.

'I think I'm going to go for a walk' I decide after a few more minutes of sitting on the floor, trying to ponder everything, and failing.

'In the middle of November?' dad asks.

'That's alright, you go on ahead' mom says, looking at dad.

I get up, not without some pain, put my coat on, and walk out the door.

* * *

Tim's POV

'Jill, what's the matter with you? He can barely make it from the couch to the dining room table, and you're going to let him go out for a walk?' I ask as soon is Randy is out the door.

'It does no good to say no to him, we can't tell him what to do any more. Besides, getting some fresh air will do him good. It always was good for my would be fiancées' Jill says.

'Exactly how many "would be fiancées" did you have?' I ask her.

'Does it matter? I mean, I am with you now, and that's all that really matters to me' she answers.

'It depends. Can you count them on one hand?' I joke.

* * *

Randy's POV

After leaving home, I wander around for ten or fifteen minutes before I decide what I need to do.

Twenty minutes later, I'm knocking on Steve's door.

'Hello, can I help you?' a woman who I'm guessing is Steve's wife answers the door.

'Yeah, I need to see Steve real quick. Is he busy?' I ask.

'Oh, you're Randy Taylor, aren't you?' "Yes, unfortunately" I think, but just nod my head.

'I love the columns that you and Lauren write together. Your exposé on Hillshire Farms changed the way I think of summer sausage forever. And that article on 10 ways to deal with computer tech support people should be on the New York Time's Bestsellers List, and-' she keeps babbling.

'Could we? I mean, could you go get Steve?' I ask.

'Just one minute. Make yourself at home. Oh, if one of the cats is in the way, feel free to just move it to the floor' she instructs. I nod and choose a rather comfortable looking, cat free, rocking chair near the sofa. A big tiger striped tabby comes up to me and starts rubbing my legs. A couple of minutes later, Steve comes in.

'You must be gifted with cats, Bitty usually doesn't take well to strangers. But anyways, how are you doing? Is there anything I can do for you? Would you like anything?' Steve says.

'I want you to reassign me to another section of the newspaper' I say, getting right to the point.

'I was thinking more along the lines of coffee or tea, something like that. What's brought this on? This doesn't have anything to do with Saddam Hussein, does it?' he asks.

'Yes Steve, it has everything to do with that assignment you gave to Lauren' I answer.

'Randy, I've been in the newspaper business for twenty years, ever since I was fifteen and started writing for my high school's paper. I think there's more to the story. Tell me what happened' Steve coaxes. I relay the events of the past two hours to him.

'It doesn't sound to me like Saddam Hussein has anything to do with this. It sounds to me like this is between you and Lauren. I'm not going to reassign you until you've at least made an attempt at reconciliation with Lauren. If you really don't think that you two can continue to work together, I'll assign to whatever part of the paper has an opening. I won't make any promises that it'll be a glamour job like what this one has been' Steve says.

"Hey, it's no big deal, Jim Qwilleran got reassigned all the time in the Cat Who… series" I think.

'Okay, thanks for taking the time to see me. I guess I'll be going now' I say.

'It's getting pretty dark and cold out there. Let me give you a ride home' he offers.

'Oh, thanks' I say.

'Let me get my coat, and I'll be right out there' Steve says.

While I'm waiting, I start thinking about how successful Lauren and I are as a writing team. There is no way Steve will ever reassign me. He's probably going to talk to Lauren and tell her she needs to take back her no and go ahead and marry me.

Either that or he's going to tell us both that we need to set our personal problems aside and act like professionals. He'll probably lay a guilt trip about the paper or Michiganders getting screwed by the government or something on us.

God, it just occurred to me, I know my boss _way_ too well.

* * *

A/N: Before I can do this author's note, I have to say something to be able to compose myself enough to type:

Michigander Michigander Michigander Michigander Michigander Michigander Michigander Michigander Michigander Michigander Michigander Michigander Michigander Michigander Michigander Michigander Michigander Michigander Michigander Michigander Michigander Michigander Michigander Michigander Michigander Michigander Michigander Michigander Michigander Michigander

Okay, I'm good now. I'm sorry, I just think Michigander is a funny word. It's the "preferred" term for someone from Michigan, as opposed to Michiganian. (Which isn't as funny, at least not to me).

Anyways, please R I'd especially like to hear from you if you're a Michigander. (Actually, yes, I would like you to review, but I also wanted to use the word Michigander again).

Thanks for reading, my dear Michiganders out there in Michiganderland. (And thank you readers out there in readerland for reading too).

-Yours truly, Randy "Michigander Michigander Michigander Michigander" Taylor (Hey, I am actually a Michigander if you go by my other personality. Hint hint, that other personality would be Randy Taylor. Anyways, I'll shut up now).

P.S. Happy New Year everybody!


	19. Chapter 17: You Might Die Trying

Crash Chapter 17

"You Might Die Trying"

Randy's POV

It's been eleven days now since Lauren and I had our argument. I never thought anything would break the two of us up. I mean, we even survived my "death", but now Saddam Hussein breaks us up.

And really it's not even about Saddam Hussein, it's just that I'm scared Lauren is going to go over there and get blown up by a car bomb or something. If she's in an explosion, then I want to be right there in the same explosion.

I wish I had someone to talk to about this. Wilson is out of town for a festival celebrating Johannes Gutenberg's life, and talking to dad would be too awkward. And mom, God knows mom has tried many times to get me to talk, but again, that would be too awkward.

I hear the phone ring, so I get up to answer it since I'm the only one that's downstairs right now.

'Hello' I answer.

'Hi Randy. Wow, this is kind of awkward. Anyways, is either your mom or dad home?' Lauren says.

'My mom is upstairs. Why do you ask?' I ask.

'My car won't start and I need a ride to the airport. I was going to see if one of them could take me' she explains. Hm. If I was going on this trip, her car not starting wouldn't be a real problem at the moment, would it?

'Okay, I'll let her know you're on the phone' I tell Lauren.

I press the button on the intercom to mom and dad's room. 'Hey mom, Lauren's on the phone and she needs to talk to you about something' I say.

'Okay, I'll get the phone' she says back. I wait until I hear mom come on the line before I hang up. Almost, that is. I know it's not proper but I can't help but listen in on their conversation. It's not like anyone is going to catch me in the act, since dad just left to start his shift at the hardware store today.

I listen to the entire conversation between mom and Lauren, but Lauren doesn't say anything to mom she didn't to me, much to my dismay. I don't know what I expected though, I mean that's Lauren for you. She never…she isn't one to…well, it's just her nature. After they're both done talking and mom has hung up the phone, I hang up the phone downstairs and go back over to the couch, which is where I spend the large majority of my time anymore since I can't take the stairs going either up or down.

A couple minutes later, mom comes down the stairs.

'Randy, I'm going to take Lauren to the airport now. I should be gone about an hour, hour and a half tops. Will you be alright by your self? Because I could take you with me, or drop you off by the hardware store or something' mom says.

'I'll be fine here' I assure her.

'Okay. You have all the numbers in your new cell phone, right?' she asks.

'Yes' I say. Believe me; I have those numbers in there. It took me long enough to get them all put in the new cell phone I got since my old one was destroyed in the crash.

Then she leaves, leaving me alone for the first time since I fell into the mirror. Needless to say, I'm not going to do anything that could under any circumstances cause my chest cavity to fill up with air **or** blood this time.

I lay down, and within a few minutes, I fall asleep if nothing else out of sheer boredom.

* * *

Jill's POV

I hope Randy will be alright by himself. He has sworn off mirrors, so I guess that's one less thing to have to worry about.

I think Lauren wanting me to take her to the airport has more to it than just the fact that she can't get her car to start. That's one reason why I agreed to do this. I would've done it anyways, so it's not necessarily the main reason, but one of them.

After several minutes of driving, I get to Lauren's apartment, and see her standing at the doors.

'I was hoping you could help me carry down my luggage too, if it's not too much trouble' she says when I get out of the car.

'Sure' I agree.

I follow her inside and up two flights of stairs to her apartment. Wow, Randy wasn't kidding when he said Lauren had a small apartment.

To my surprise, she doesn't say anything about Randy while we're taking her luggage downstairs or during the ride to the airport. I must've just read it all wrong.

When we get to the airport, I get out to help her with her luggage.

'How are you going to manage with all this stuff when you get over to Iraq?' I ask.

'I'll have the photographer to help me over there' Lauren answers.

'Alright. Do you need me to pick you up when you get back?' I ask.

'I almost forgot about that. Yes, I will, if it's alright with you. I'll be back around seven or so on Tuesday' Lauren says.

'Okay. Either Tim or I one will be here to pick you up' I tell her.

I stand there in the terminal and watch her head off to her flight. Once she disappears out of sight, I trek back to the car, which seems farther away than before.

It starts raining just as I get outside of the airport building. Before I can get to the Nomad, the rain starts coming down like bullets and stings at my neck like ice shards. I get in the Nomad just before it starts coming down in sheets.

I start up the engine and sit there a few minutes to let the car warm up. After a couple of minutes, I hear a series of loud booming sounds that sound similar to thunder. I look up at the skies for any trace of lightning, but see none. What I do see scares me. The airport building is literally going up in flames. I pause a few seconds to watch, then realize what's happening and put the pedal to metal and go flying out of the parking lot and towards home like a red bat out of hell.

I call Randy on my cell phone. It rings several times, and then goes to his voice mail.

'Hi Randy, it's mom. I was just wondering if you was watching TV and I was going to tell you if you weren't, then you should turn it on' I say.

* * *

Randy's POV

I was asleep on the couch when the sound of one of those emergency broadcast siren things on the TV wakes me up.

I force myself to open my eyes and look at the TV screen.

'We go now to our man on the scene, Chip Gutierez. Chip, can you tell us what's going on?' the news anchor says.

'Thank you Pam. There has been a bombing at the local airport. We're still unsure as to why the bombing has occurred, but we'll keep everyone updated as more information comes in. Right now I'm out here on the freeway to talk to motorists about what is happening and to get there reaction. Excuse me ma'am, what's your name?' the "man on the scene" explains.

'Jill Taylor' the woman says. My droopy eyes immediately snap open again, and I sit up with a start, which sends waves of pain throughout my abdomen.

'I was dropping my son's girlfriend off at the airport, and had just gotten outside when I heard the bombs going off. Randy, if you see this, call me! Or if anyone else I know sees this, tell Randy!' mom says.

'How do you feel right now, Ms. Taylor?' Chip asks.

'Distressed, distraught, panicked, worried, afraid. Take your pick' mom says.

'Alright. Thank you for your insight. Back to you for now Pam' Chip says.

Okay, I know mom is alright, but what about Lauren?

* * *

A/N: "Lightning may never strike the same place twice, but all it takes is one bolt to start a raging wildfire". Hmm.

After all Randy said about Lauren getting blown up in Iraq, she goes and gets blown up in Detroit, along with a bunch of other Michiganders.

Please R&R to find out what happens to Lauren.

Thanks for reading and in advance for reviewing.

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor


	20. Chapter 18: Trouble

Crash Chapter 18

"Trouble"

Randy's POV

I'm sitting on the couch, contemplating what to do next when the phone rings. I've already called mom, and have no idea how to get in touch with Lauren.

'Hello' I answer.

'Randy, it's me, Lauren' Lauren says on the other end of the line.

'Lauren! Are you alright? Did you get hurt in the explosion?' I blurt out.

'Yes, yes, I'm fine. I was on the plane before the bombs went off. Listen, about that, I kind of know something about it' she whispers, her words growing softer with each syllable.

'What? What do you know?' I demand, no less than a trillion different thoughts racing through my mind.

'I was sitting in the terminal, waiting for my plane to begin boarding, when I overheard this couple saying something about setting a bomb off in the airport. I tried to mention it to one of the attendants, but he didn't seem too concerned about it, and just said he would look into the matter' Lauren explains.

'Did you get the couple's names? What did they look like?' I ask.

'No, I didn't get any names. They were both maybe in their thirties or so, both Caucasian, the girl had short brown hair, and the guy had black hair, and he had one of those uh…crew cuts or whatever they're called. Um, they were dressed normally, just a long sleeve shirt and blue jeans. That's all I know' she recounts.

'I've got to call and tell somebody about this. Did you see where they went to?' I ask.

'Randy, I don't want you to start worrying now, okay? I'll be fine' she whispers.

'Lauren, where are they?' I say.

'They're both sitting at the front of the plane I'm on. It's Northwest Airlines flight number 557' Lauren answers.

'Okay, whatever you do, do not hang up. I'm going to call the police on my cell phone and tell them. They'll know what to do' I instruct Lauren.

I grab my phone off the table and dial 911.

'911, what's your emergency?' the operator answers.

'There was just an explosion at Detroit Metropolitan Wayne County Airport, and my girlfriend is on board one of those planes. She overheard a couple talking about setting off a bomb in the airport, and she told an attendant at the airport, but the attendant apparently did nothing' the operator interrupts me

'So your girlfriend overheard this, then told an employee at the airport, who in turn did nothing' she says.

'He seemingly did nothing. She doesn't know for sure. Anyways, so the couple she heard talking about the bomb is onboard the same plane she is' I finish explaining.

'And what flight is that?' the operator asks.

'It's Northwest Airlines flight number 557' I tell her.

'Okay, I'm contacting the airline officials right now. They will have the plane land as soon as possible, and the couple will be detained' the operator tells me.

'How soon is "as soon as possible"?' I ask.

'It's only a few minutes to Willow Run Airport, which is the closest place to land' she says.

After a couple more minutes, I hang up, and concentrate 100 percent on Lauren.

'Lauren, are you still there?' I ask.

'Yes. Did you get through to anyone?' Lauren whispers.

'I did. You all are apparently going to land at Willow Run Airport, which is only a few minutes away by plane. Then the airport security will come on board and haul the Mr. and Mrs. Bob-omb off to jail' I tell her.

'Oh thank God. This is so terrifying, I don't think I'm ever going to set foot on an airplane again after I get off' she says.

'So anyways, yeah you want to make sure to give him one teaspoon of the cough syrup twice a day, and he gets two teaspoons of the other three times a day. And remember, the cough syrup has to be…' Lauren says rather loudly.

'What? What are you talking about?' I ask, confused.

'Randy, the man just walked right by me on the way to the bathroom. I had to make it seem like a normal phone conversation' she explains. The bathroom? Oh my God. Isn't that what the 9/11 terrorist guy did right before he tried to hijack Flight 93? I want to say something to Lauren about this so badly, but mentioning it will only make her more nervous, and that won't accomplish a thing.

'Hold on a second Randy, the pilot is making an announcement' Lauren says.

'He just announced that we are going to be landing at Willow Run in a few minutes due to mechanical difficulties' Lauren relays to me after a minute.

'Hold on again, the stewardess needs to tell me something' Lauren says again. I can still hear part of her conversation.

'Maybe you don't understand what's going on here' says Lauren.

'But I do understand. Some mechanical difficulties have occurred and we have to make an emergency landing, and that means you need to get off of the phone' the stewardess says.

'Randy, I'm sorry, the stewardess says I have to get off the phone in order for the pilot to make the landing. I'll call you as soon as we land, okay? And, Randy, I love you. I'm sorry I said no to you the other day. Maybe if I hadn't, I wouldn't be in this mess right now' she says.

'Don't go blaming yourself. None of this is your fault. You're not the one who set off all those bombs, and you're not the one who is going to try and hijack this plane' I say. Damn. I didn't mean to say that last part.

'Hijack? What are you talking about? I have to go now. I love you' Lauren says. Before she hangs the phone up, I hear a loud voice saying something. It doesn't sound like either a stewardess or pilot. It sounds very evil.

I hang up the phone, and turn the volume on the TV back up.

'We've just received word now from an air traffic control tower that Northwest Airlines flight 557, the flight that is believed to contain the bombers, is in the process of being hijacked…' I hear the news anchor say after a couple of minutes. He says something more after the word hijacked, but I don't hear a word of it. All I can think about is the fact that my girlfriend, my would be fiancée, is thousands of feet up in the air, and about to lose her life. And I can't do a damn thing to stop it.

I watch the CNN coverage a few more minutes. They bring up another screen that's showing an aerial view of Lauren's plane. After a few minutes, the plane starts zig and zag back and forth, and loses a little altitude. Then a few seconds later, it regains its lost altitude, and starts flying straight again. Something still doesn't feel right.

Then I hear the anchor say ten of the worst words I've ever heard. 'All contact with flight 557 has been lost.'

* * *

A/N: I'm sure I've gotten some information wrong in this chapter, but I tried to stay as accurate as I possibly could. So anyways, yeah, I know a lot of this is unreal, but it will all make sense when the story ends.

Please R&R for Lauren's sake. She doesn't want to be trapped on that airplane for the rest of her life. (However long that may be).

Thanks for reading.

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor


	21. Chapter 19: Angel

Crash Chapter 19

"Angel"

Randy's POV

I forget about the entire rest of the world and just sit there, frozen in place on the couch. The phone rings, but I ignore it. The machine gets it. I hear dad's voice. He's saying something (I don't know what). Probably "pick up the phone if you're there Randy". Eventually he hangs up without me having even moved an inch. All I can do is watch the airplane. All I can think about is what could be going on inside that craft.

Dad calls back a few minutes later. Again I ignore the phone and the answering machine. About half way through his message, the plane is flying over a huge field about twenty minutes outside of Detroit and takes a sharp nosedive. I pounce for the cordless phone and sharply tap the "talk" button with my thumb.

'Dad, I'll call you back in a minute' I say, my eyes still glued to the screen when the plane crashes. I force myself to close my eyes, and then go to the garage and get in and start up the Mustang. I grip the steering wheel a little bit harder when I realize that my hands are shaking either from fear or pain. Or maybe it's a mixture.

I get a few minutes down the road, and hit the button that activates the hands free cell phone thing dad installed in the Mustang a few years ago. 'Call The Toolman' I command shakily.

After a couple of rings, dad answers his phone.

'Have you heard about the bombings and the plane?' I ask.

'Yeah, that's why I called you' dad says.

'Are you watching the news right now?' I ask.

'No, I'm on my way home' he says.

'The plane that Lauren is on just crashed in a field about twenty minutes outside of Detroit. I'm going there in the Mustang right now' I tell him.

'Randy, I don't think that that's such a good idea' dad protests.

'I don't either. But there's something telling me to do this, some voice, and it's just too powerful to disobey' I explain.

'I think I know the field you're talking about. I'll meet you there. I'm going to call and tell your mom what's happening on my way' dad says.

'Okay, I'm going to hang up now so I can focus on driving' I tell him. I need to focus all my attention on driving. I probably shouldn't even be driving right now.

I drive for about ten minutes uninterrupted, then see a barricade for roadwork of some sort set up. Who in their right mind would be doing roadwork in the middle of November in Southern Michigan?

I drive the mustang through one of the signs, and drive through the maze of road construction equipment, thinking that any minute, some police officer is going to see me and arrest me, but not really caring either.

About five minutes down the road from the road construction, I run into another obstacle. There's a barricade of police cars set up. I quickly assess my options here. I can either get out of the car and hope that the police officers will either be too busy to notice that I just broke through their barrier or let me through, or I could drive down the embankment and around the barricade. I decide to go with the latter of the two, and take off. I almost immediately have to cut down my speed once I hit the surface of the embankment because, thanks to the rain, the entire slope is slick and muddy.

I see the wreckage of the crashed plane as I get closer to the bottom of the bank.

I slam on my brakes and do a donut when I see and a hear a fleet of fire trucks, ambulances, and first responders coming up behind me. I don't let this delay me, however. I put the pedal to the metal while the rescue people are still working their way down the slippery slope. Hey, I've broken just about every other law imaginable, why stop now? I come within an inestimable distance from the aircraft and get out of the car just as the first responders start toward the plane.

I start surveying the wreckage. The plane is broken directly in half. The front half is burning wildly, save the cockpit, and the back half appears to be flame free. I start to run to the plane, then think better of it.

Fire fighters begin working to douse the flames on the front half, while police officers start searching the back half. I keep my attention trained on Lauren's section, hoping to see something, anything that could mean there are survivors.

I'm so intently watching the scene that I don't even see dad come barreling down the slope. He gets out and walks over to me and starts to say something, then stops like he doesn't know what to say.

All of a sudden, something happens that causes the supervising fireman start barking orders into the walkie talkie thing that police use. Then the smell of the jet fuel gets even heavier in the air. Police officers start rushing out of the back half of the plane, and another fire truck prepares itself for battle. I grab dad's arm and make a dash for a nearby ambulance. We reach its safety just as I hear an explosion. Even from my current position on the ground, and even with the ambulance blocking my view, I can see huge columns of flames shooting up in the air. My blood runs cold when I calculate in my mind where the flames are shooting up from.

* * *

Lauren's POV

Miraculously, I'm still alive even after the plane crash. I hurt just about everywhere, and I'm sure I have some injuries, but I can't differentiate the pain enough right now to tell what could possibly be injured.

After an amount of time that is unknown to me, some police officers begin coming into this section of the plane to see if there are any survivors. From the way it sounds, I'm the only one. (I've had my eyes closed, I don't know why, since the plane crashed). I open them now, and a police officer sees me doing so.

'We have one over here' he hollers to the rest of the pack.

'Miss, can you feel your legs?' he asks.

'I don't know, I'm…it all just hurts' I mumble.

'Alright, we're going to get some paramedics in here real soon' the police officer says.

'Can you tell me your name?' the officer asks.

'Lauren Johnson' I reply.

'Inform the chief that Lauren Johnson is the only survivor back here.

Before anyone gets a chance to do this, someone on the walkie talkies orders everyone off this section of the plane immediately.

'No! No, don't leave! Please!' I scream over and over again, suddenly finding my voice. Before anyone can say anything back to me, fire starts erupting everywhere around me. One spurt even engulfs the police officer who was talking to me.

As the fire rages on and gets stronger, it somehow miraculously never gets close enough to me to harm me.

"_How is this happening? What could possibly be keeping this fire from devouring me?" _I think.

-I am- a voice says out of nowhere.

'Who are you?' I ask.

-You wouldn't believe me if I told you-

'I'd believe just about anything right now' I say, laughing for some reason.

-I'm an angel, sent by God-

'Not that I don't believe in God, but I _must_ be hallucinating' I say.

-I told you you wouldn't believe-

'But why me? There's so many other people on this airplane that could've been saved, that God could've chosen to keep alive. Why me?' I ask.

-God has His reasons. There's something very important you must do-

'What about the bombers?' I ask.

'They are already at the gates of hell, facing down Satan himself-

'What is the important mission I have to do?'

-I'm not allowed to say. You'll know what it is when the time comes.-

I notice then that the fire is getting closer and closer to me.

-Lauren, I need to get you out of here. I can't hold off this fire much longer-

Then I see someone appear right in front of me. He looks like he's over seven feet tall, has blond hair, is dressed all in white, and…has wings on his back. I start to ask if he's the one that I've been talking to, but the answer just comes to me before I get a chance to. He walks over to me, picks me up, and carries me through the fire, through the solid structure of the airplane, and then lays me down about fifteen feet away from the inferno.

-I have to go now, Lauren-

'But I didn't even get your name'

-Bingo-

For a second, I think he's being smart, then realize that Bingo is his name. Oh.

'But how will they find me here?'

-They will know to look. God has seen to all that already. Farewell for now, Lauren Johnson. Remember what I said.-

A heavy mist surrounds his body, and when it clears, Bingo is gone. As soon as he's gone, paramedics, first responders, and police officers come running around the plane to me.

* * *

A/N: I wasn't lying when I said things would get weirder in this story.

Read and review to find out what happens to Lauren. I'll just say this: This story isn't over yet, and it isn't done getting a lot weirder yet either.

Thanks for reading.

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor


	22. Chapter 20: Almost Falling Off the Roof

Crash Chapter 20

"Almost Falling Off the Roof"

Randy's POV

'What are those people doing going around to the other side of the plane?' I ask to no one in particular.

'I don't know' dad answers.

I fight the urge to join them. When I see a stretcher go flying past, I can't resist the temptation any longer and make a break for it, or at least as best of a break for it as I can under the circumstances. I don't get half way there before a fire fighter stops me.

'You can't go over there. How did you get down here anyways?' he says.

'My girlfriend was on that plane, and I-' I start to explain, but the fire fighter motions me to be silent when an announcement comes over his walkie talkie.

"We have one survivor still. Says her name is Lauren Johnson" the person on the other end of the walkie talkie says.

'That's her!' I shout as I run around the astonished fireman. As I run around the plane, I see Lauren lying there on the ground. How did she get out of the plane?

'Lauren! I'm here, Lauren!' I yell as I get closer. When I come to a stop, I notice that the fireman followed me over.

'This guy says he's her boyfriend' he explains to the people treating Lauren.

'Fiancée, actually' Lauren says. For a split second, I forget all this is happening and smile. For one split second, it's just Lauren and me out there in this big meadow/field. I feel a hand on my shoulder and turn around to see that dad has followed me over now too.

'And who are you?' one of the medics asks dad as he pulls the gurney closer.

'Tim Taylor, I'm this young man's father' he introduces himself.

'Do you all know what's going on with her? Why she was outside of the plane?' I ask, hoping I'm not interrupting their work.

'She has a couple of moderate sized cuts on her stomach, a broken leg, and a mild concussion. Other than that, she's fine' the woman, who I'm assuming is the head EMT says.

'She doesn't have any burns from the fire?' I ask in disbelief.

'None that we can see' another medic explains.

I start to say something more, but stop when I hear what sounds like a helicopter overhead. I look up for affirmation of my theory.

'You all need to stand back while the chopper lands' the fireman I ran into before says to me and dad.

'Are either of you going to ride with the lady to the hospital?' the female EMT shouts over the roar of the helicopter.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see dad looking at me. I don't return the look. 'I will' I answer instead.

'Okay, I'll call your mom again and let her know what's going on. We'll try to get there as fast as we can' dad says. As I board the chopper, I see dad pulling out his cell phone.

'Is this your first time on a medivack flight?' one of the medics asks me after a couple minutes of flight.

'No, I was on one a couple months ago when I was hurt' I say back.

'Oh yeah, you're that kid that was pronounced dead but wasn't. I read about you in the paper, and saw you on TV' she says. I try not to, but I blush anyways. Nothing like being a local celebrity for EMTs.

The rest of the ride to Detroit Memorial Hospital goes without dialogue.

We land on the rooftop helipad, and then the paramedics get out with Lauren. After that, I get out which proves to be a tad harder than getting in was.

I stop for a couple seconds to get my land legs back, then I remember what happened to Rocket Romano on ER and back away a few feet.

I walk over closer to the edge of the rooftop to look at the view. The helicopter takes off again, no doubt rushing off to some other emergency. I stand back and watch it fade into the distance.

When I turn around, I see the door of the elevator that contains Lauren and her team of medics closing. I immediately go running to the door that leads to the stairwell which is right next to the elevator. I run down the stairs, ignoring the ever increasing pain in my abdomen.

When I reach the first floor finally, I see Lauren being wheeled into a trauma room to be more thoroughly checked over. I run down the hall after them, and let my mind stray from the situation just long enough to pretend I'm John Carter running after a patient in County General's ER.

I enter the trauma room and stand off to the side while the doctors work.

'Is this the plane crash survivor?' a voice calls from the door. I glance over in the general direction and can tell he must be the head attending by the length of his white lab coat.

'Yes. We're checking for internal bleeding right now' a woman in aqua blue scrubs answers.

'What about burns?' the attending asks.

'She doesn't have any' a man in green scrubs answers.

'What do you mean she doesn't have any? That plane was a raging inferno. How can she not have any?' the attending demands.

'It's a mystery to me' the woman who spoke earlier says.

'And who's this here?' he asks motioning to me.

'I'm Randy Taylor, her fiancé' I answer.

'Randy Taylor' he mumbles. 'Are you the guy who-' he starts to ask.

'Yes, yes, I'm the guy who was pronounced dead but actually wasn't. I'm sure you saw me in the papers and on TV' I say.

'Well, yes, but I'm also the attending that signed off on that death certificate. Uh, it looks like your girlfriend, excuse me, fiancée, is in good shape here. Could you come with me for a little bit?' he asks.

'I suppose so' I agree. I leave my post and follow him. He seems to notice this and slackens his pace. I increase mine until we're walking side by side.

'I'm Dr. Mark Greene' he introduces himself.

'And of course you know who I am' I smile.

'About that, I'm sorry. Let's go this way' Dr. Greene says, leading me to the right. 'I wasn't actually in the trauma room; therefore I wasn't the one who pronounced you dead. I just simply signed off on the death certificate. Not that it's any less my fault for what happened. I should've been more careful about it.'

'It's water under the bridge. What matters is that I'm here and doing well today' I say. We're now in the doctor's lounge.

'Can I get you something to drink or eat? There's some sodas in the fridge' he offers. I nod my head. He gets out two root beers.

I try to sit back and relax, but keep worrying about Lauren. Then I remember a question that I've always wanted to ask an ER doctor.

'Can I ask you a question that's going to sound kind of stupid?' I ask.

'Randy, I've been a doctor for twenty years. I've heard every question in the book, and not many have been stupid. But, yes, go ahead' Dr. Greene smiles.

'When you're here at work, do you ever sometimes feel like you're on ER?' I ask. He throws his head back and laughs.

'Oh God, that's one of the ones I've heard many times over the last 12 years. To answer your question, honestly, no. Most of the time, we're so busy I don't have time to feel anything but fatigue' he says.

'Dr. Greene, we found something interesting in Lauren Johnson's exam. We're not sure what to make of it' a male doctor with an accent (Russian perhaps, maybe Croatian?) says from the door.

'Let me take a look at it, Dr. Kovač' Dr. Greene says, getting up from the couch. I follow the two doctors to the nearest x-ray board. I look at it and pretend to know what the hell it means. Meanwhile, Dr. Kovač points to a certain spot on the x-ray film and Dr. Greene exams it more closely.

'Randy, this is very personal, but very important. Have you and Lauren had sexual intercourse yet?' Dr. Greene asks.

* * *

A/N: I'll just leave it there for now.

A couple of notes on this chapter:

The x-ray "board" that I referenced probably isn't called an x-ray board, but that's what I'm going to call it since I don't know the real term.

Most of the doctors mentioned in this chapter, Dr. John Carter, Dr. Robert "Rocket Romano, Dr. Mark Greene, and Dr. Luka Kovač are all the property of John Wells, Michael Crichton, and all the other people who work on the greatest TV medical drama ever, ER. I can't, don't, and won't take credit for any of them.

Please R&R. It isn't necessary but is appreciated.

Thanks for reading.

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor


	23. Chapter 21: American Baby

Crash Chapter 21

"American Baby"

Randy's POV

'Y-yes, once' I answer, my heart rate skyrocketing.

'Well congratulations, you're a father' Dr. Greene says. When I hear this, I collapse to the ground in a heap.

* * *

Dr. Greene's POV

As soon as I deliver the good news, Randy faints and drops to the ground.

'Luka, help me get him to Exam Room 2' I say.

No sooner do Luka and I get Randy up on the bed in the exam room does Cynthia come in to inform me that there are two irate people at the desk demanding to see their daughter. I follow her back to the front desk.

'Hello, I assume you are Lauren Johnson's parents' I say to the couple standing at the desk.

'Yes, are you her doctor?' the man asks.

'No, but I am the supervisor of her doctors. Come with me' I tell them, then lead them back to the trauma room and to their daughter.

'Mark, there's some more irate people at the front desk' Cynthia tells me before I get a chance to explain anything to Mr. and Mrs. Johnson.

'Good God, is it something in the water? I'm right behind you. Dr. Kovač, please explain to Mr. and Mrs. Johnson what's going on. But don't say anything for sure until the x-rays are back' I instruct Dr. Kovač.

I follow Cynthia back to the front desk and to the second set of irate parents.

'Can I help you?' I ask.

'Our son is supposed to be here, but the desk clerk says he isn't' the man explains.

'Let me guess, you two are Mr. and Mrs. Taylor, right?' I ask.

'Yes' they say in unison.

'Follow me' I say. Maybe I should start charging money and giving tours of the hospital on my break. After all, we are the only ER in the county that has three different flavors of Fritos in its vending machine.

I lead them back to the exam room where I just put Randy.

'What happened to him? Is he going to be okay?' Mr. Taylor asks.

'He fainted just a couple minutes ago. He'll be perfectly fine once he regains consciousness' I explain.

'Why did he faint? What happened?' Mrs. Taylor asks.

'It's really not my place to tell you. Once Randy regains consciousness, he can explain why. If you'll excuse me, I need to get back to the trauma room' I say. I'm not really needed in the trauma room, but it gives me an excuse to not have to tell the Taylors what their son has been up to. It's unbelievable the way some parents will react to this news.

Right as I get to the trauma room doors, I hear a shrill voice shout "What?!" I guess Dr. Kovač has delivered the news. I debate doing a 180 and going to find an intern to tell Mr. and Mrs. Taylor, but decide against it. Instead, I enter the trauma room.

Mr. Johnson looks angry, and Mrs. Johnson looks shocked. Luka looks at me for help.

'You know what, it might be better if you two wait outside. That way, the doctors can concentrate on treating your daughter' I suggest/instruct to the girl's parents.

I open my mouth to explain what's going on, but am interrupted by a loud crashing sound from the front desk area. I go running to the front desk and see an ambulance sitting in the triage room. I stand back and let the other doctors already present on the scene work. Hey, being head attending has its perks.

'Okay, Jerry, call maintenance and get them on this and have a couple of nurses check the triage patients for injuries from the crash. Oh, and call security. Tell them someone is in my parking space' I instruct the desk clerk.

I turn around and head back to the exam room to see if Randy has come around yet. Yet again, as I reach the doors, I hear a female voice saying "What?!" Okay, I didn't think déjà vu could happen in the same day.

'I see that Randy has regained consciousness' I comment.

'Why didn't you tell us?' Mrs. Taylor asks.

'I didn't know until just now when Dr. Greene told me' Randy persists.

'Is this what you wanted him to tell us? Mr. Taylor asks me. I just nod my head.

'Doctor, could you excuse us for a moment please?' Mrs. Taylor asks.

'Okay. I'll be around if you need me, or perhaps my medical expertise' I offer.

What a day. What a day. Maybe I'll go sample some of those three different types of Fritos while I do my charts.

* * *

A/N: Okay, so this chapter was a little different. (Not to mention a little short). But, anyways, my point is, different can be good. At least I hope it was.

Baxxie brought up a very interesting point in her review last chapter. Would Lauren's pregnancy show up on an X-ray? I don't have the slightest freaking clue, but for this story, it does.

Once again, all the doctors (and in this chapter, the desk clerk) belong to ER and its producers and creators. Also, I kind of got the ambulance idea from an ER episode, only it was a motorcycle in ER, and it was pulled up to the front desk, not just in the triage room.

Sorry, I kind of got off on a tangent there.

Please read and review if you liked this chapter.

As always, thanks for reading.

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor


	24. Chapter 22: Rapunzel

Crash Chapter 22

"Rapunzel"

A/N: … …. … … … … … … … … … … … … …

Those dots up there, that's the space I'd be using if I had a good excuse for being gone for so long. I don't. I just got lazy and neglected my stories. But *crosses fingers* I'm back now.

Anyways, I'm going to skip ahead in this chapter, actually by a few of months. I'll let the chapter explain the rest.

-Yours truly, Randy "No, I Didn't Fall Off the Face of the Earth" Taylor

* * *

Randy's POV

I keep turning the ring over in the palm of my hand. The band is gold, with a fairly good sized diamond centered on it. I've been staring at it for over an hour now. I keep thinking about the last time I held this ring in my hand. Last November, before the bombings and everything. It's been five months since then, but it seems like forever ago.

The truth is, lately, I've been thinking about breaking it out again. I keep seeing Lauren get more and more pregnant, and I keep feeling like I should be a bigger part of her life.

'I'll do it tonight' I whisper after a few more minutes of debate and consideration.

That Night

Randy's POV

It's a great southern Michigan spring evening. It's not too warm or too cold outside. (Which is where Lauren, her parents, mom, dad, and I are dining). As the sun starts to set and everyone is finishing their meal, I get up to take the dishes inside. After I do so, I come back outside to set with the others.

'It's evenings like these that make all the winter we get here in Michigan worth it' Lauren's dad says after a long sip of lemonade.

'Oh, tell me about it Tom. There's nothing more satisfying than the simple things in life. Like this sunset, for example, or having a family to come home to at the end of a day like this' dad says.

'You're comparing us to a sunset?' I ask dad, smiling.

'You know what I mean' he says.

'Actually, yes, I do know what you mean' I say, losing the smile.

'Here, on this beautiful night, everything just seems so right. It'd be nice if life included a pause button, to freeze all of time in place, so I could enjoy this night with the ones I love. Most especially with the one I love. Unfortunately, life isn't some VCR made by RCA, so I can't quite do that. Ever since…November, it seems like everything has been going ultra fast. Now, God knows I've tried to slow things down. I've even tried that machine Wilson has down in his basement, but it only made me groggy and unable to drive or operate heavy machinery for a couple of days.' I stop to laugh at that last remark. 'Anyways, I may not be able to do all this other stuff, and I may not be able to spend the rest of my life on this one night.' Now I stand up and pace in front of the fence for a few moments. 'However, I would like to spend the rest of my life with you, Lauren. That is, if you'll let me.' Lauren looks shocked, even though we've been through this once before.

'Are you asking what I think you're asking Randy?' Lauren asks.

'Yes. Lauren Johnson, last time I tried to ask you this, it had less than stellar results. So, if you think there's any way that there could be similar effects this time, then stop me right now.' She doesn't. 'Good. Then Lauren Johnson, will you marry me?'

* * *

A/N: Two chapters.

Please R&R! Thanks

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor


	25. Chapter 23: Sleep to Dream Her

Crash Chapter 23

"Sleep to Dream Her"

Randy's POV

'Yes. Yes, I will!' Lauren exclaims excitedly.

* * *

A Couple Months Later

Randy's POV

_May 17_

_It's unbelievable what being engaged can do to somebody. I feel like I'm on top of the world right. I'm a changed person from who I was five months ago. Back then, it seemed like everything was going bad. Of course, that's probably because everything was going bad five months ago._

_Now my life is all on track. I'm getting married tomorrow. Mine and Lauren's first child is due any day now. I just found out that both Brad and Mark are (by their own choosing) moving back to Detroit._

_Yeah, it's going to be just like old times. No, actually, it will also be just like I always imagined it being for me when I grew up._

_Sure I'm nervous about being a father and a husband, especially when we haven't even decided for sure where we're going to live yet. Lauren's just been staying in my apartment since my building has an elevator and she's nine months pregnant._

_Yes, tomorrow, May 18, at 1:00 pm, Randy Taylor will officially be a married man. And here's to him being a happy man for life._

_And now, it is time for me to sleep to dream her._

* * *

A/N: It was a little on the short side, but as I've said before, I don't really have any ideas left for this story.

I hope everyone has enjoyed reading it so far.

And just to let everybody know, the 26th and final chapter will be coming on the evening of May 18. (That is in US Central time, so it may be May 19 for some readers). And yes, I'm sure it'll be May 18, because I've had the epilogue for Crash written since August 30 of last year.

Please R&R!

Thanks for reading, everybody. Stay tuned.


	26. Epilogue: A Dream So Real

Crash Epilogue

A/N: I put spaces in the first few lines so you aren't tempted to take peeks at the story while you read the title. Believe me, you'll want **all** of your attention devoted to that when you get down there. Catch up with you at the end. Enjoy!

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor

* * *

"A Dream So Real"

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Jill's POV

'Oh my God, Tim! He just moved. Randy just moved!' I shout when I see Randy's previously motionless hand twitch.

'Are you sure weren't just seeing things Jill?' Tim asks.

'Yes, I'm positive' I say.

After I speak again, I can see Randy's eyelids twitching. Tim comes running over to stand on the other side of Randy's bed, as well as Mark and Brad.

Then, the movement that I've been waiting for throughout the past three weeks. For the first time since Randy was in the wreck, he opens his eyes.

* * *

Randy's POV

What's going on? What does mom mean I moved? Why wouldn't I be moving? I mean, that surgery was a success.

I try to open my eyes, but am unable to on the first attempt. On the second try, I'm successful.

I open my eyes and without moving my head (which would require much more energy than what I currently have), take in my current surroundings. It looks like I'm in a hospital. I can see mom standing over me, then eventually dad, Brad, and Mark.

Then it hits me. It was a dream. Maybe not in the traditional sense, but everything I imagined, being engaged to Lauren, the surgery, the morgue, my dream about my grandfathers, the airport being bombed, Lauren's plane being hijacked, all of it is just a figment of my imagination. But it seemed so real. It seemed so believable.

That would mean that...That would mean that I'm still recovering from the wreck. How long have I been out of it?

In the process of thinking, my eyes have closed again. I lie there for a few moments, just trying to muster up enough strength to open my eyes, one last time. Enough strength to open them up and get one, final look at the four most important people to me in the whole world.

I open my eyes for what I know is the final time. Don't ask me how, I just know.

I see mom peering over me, dad is standing right next to her. On the other side, Brad, Mark, and Lauren hold each other up.

'I...love you...all' I manage to whisper somehow. Mom burst into tears, and practically falls into dad's arms. One lone tear slips out of my eye and runs down my cheek before I close my eyes.

Suddenly, I realize that I'm being lifted up, though not physically. I can faintly hear two things. One is the shrill continuous beep of some sort of hospital machine. The other, a song that sounds so familiar, but so fresh and new at the same time.

It's kind of funny actually. Once I'm done being "lifted", I swear I can see Wilson saying "welcome home". Then I hear that song start up again.

_Come in from the cold for a while_

_Everything will be alright_

_Then we'll all leave for the time_

_It's all just a wave goodbye_

_Go in from the noise for a while  
Rest your weary head my good friend  
No need to worry yourself a while  
The world will do without you for a night  
Lay down now_

_A dream take it home_

_A dream that'll take you home_

_A dream that'll take you on home_

_It's been a little while now  
Oh for now, its goodbye  
For now goodbye  
Y'all stay alright  
Till we meet again, goodbye  
Y'all goodnight  
See, love its your night  
Oh its a pleasure for us tonight  
For now, goodbye  
Goodbye_

* * *

A/N: Just to sum everything in this chapter up, basically everything that happened from chapter 2 (by my count, chapter 3 by Fanfiction's count) on was this dream Randy was having in Detroit Memorial's ICU.

Next I want to get the thank yous out of the way. I'm sorry if I leave anyone off the list, but I'm just doing this off the top of my head. Anyways, here goes:

Thank you to Lee Sinins for helping me out several times during this story and giving me several excellent ideas.

I need to give credit to Dave Matthews Band for pretty much this entire story. I've used one of their song names as titles for all of the chapters, and named the story after one of their albums. I also have to give them credit for the little "poem" at the end of this chapter. I actually combined the lyrics from a couple of their songs, then added a few touches of my own to get that.

As always, I need to thank two of my biggest supporters and helpers, and definitely my two most loyal readers, Baxxie and Colin Creevey. I seriously couldn't write without these two.

Lastly, I want to thank everyone who read and reviewed.

Now I want to explain a little bit about this chapter.

I hope that at least one person out there felt a little sad, if not a major rush of emotions reading this chapter. I felt like I was losing a family member when I wrote the part where Randy dies. I was on the verge of an emotional meltdown when I was putting together that poem at the end.

I have to be honest. I have no idea how the story plays out as I'm writing this. I like that. I like to surprise myself. Right now, I'm working on the chapter after Randy has his surgery done to correct his spinal cord, and I got stuck, so I decided to just write this while I had the idea floating around in my head.

I hope everyone enjoyed this story as much I'm sure I will. I need to try to make the next epilogue not so sad sounding. Yet again, I have the same bittersweet feeling as I did when I finished Meet Me in St. Louie.

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor on August 30, 2008

* * *

A/N: Wow. A lot sure has changed since I wrote that last author's note.

In all honesty, I never intended for Crash to end this way, or this quickly. I thought that I'd have another three or four chapters in between the last chapter and the epilogue, but unfortunately, when I sat down to write, I discovered that I had a grand total of zero ideas. I suppose I could sit around another two or three months and hope that one day, something just magically falls out of the sky and pops in my head, but then I'd wind up trying to finish this thing in June or July. I suppose that waiting for ideas is a good modus operandi for writing of any type, but it obviously has failed me here.

Look forward to more stories in time. (I'm going to post the next one May 25, but it probably won't get any new chapters for a couple of weeks, or at least until I finish Burned Bridges).

Thanks once again to everybody I mentioned before.

And, lastly, I'd just like to dedicate this entire story to my grandma, who passed away only a couple weeks after I started writing this story. Today would've been her 88th birthday, which is why I chose to end this one today.

-For the final time here, yours truly, Randy Taylor on May 18, 2009


	27. Epilogue II: This is the Last Stop

Crash Epilogue II

A/N: Okay, so I didn't plan on adding another chapter to Crash, but then I got a suggestion from someone. (But I'll get into that one a little bit later on at the end of this second epilogue. Or maybe I should call it an epilogue to the epilogue. I don't know. You can call whatever you think it should be called.

Whatever you want to call it, I hope you enjoy reading it. Catch up with you at the end.

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor

* * *

"This is the Last Stop"

Randy's POV

Oh no. Oh no. Here we go again. Here we go _again._

The room from that dream I had in my dream (or coma, or whatever it's called) while I was having that surgery done to me that wasn't, or rather isn't, actually real, the room where the two grandpas were arguing about their wives and their relationships with them is where I'm at now.

I don't want to do this again. I don't want to go back in time, and I don't want to have to see mom crying that way again. I don't want to learn how to walk through walls again either.

No. I just want to be dead. Dead and done and over with and gone and almost all but forgotten and just be able to get some peace and quiet and rest now without any more interference from ghosts or spirits or grandfathers or medical examiners or famous actors from sitcoms or anything else.

Despite my wants, I see mom, dad, Mark, Lauren, and Brad come walking into the room. Mom sees me lying there in the casket, lifeless, and starts crying. Then, as if mom crying weren't bad enough, Lauren starts crying as well. Apparently the world can't do without me for a night.

Then, after that, I see another spirit appear. It's Grandpa Taylor. Soon after that happens, Grandpa Patterson appears with him.

'Look, as much as I'd love to do this again, I'm out of here' I say, heading for the nearest wall. Without thinking about it, I don't think about a date, so I wind up going straight through the wall.

Then I see that girl spirit from the operating room.

'Wow, I was hoping you'd only be that dense in your dreams. Come with me, I'll show you the ins and outs of being a ghost' she says, beckoning me forth. Hey, it's not like I have anything better to do now that I'm dead. And even if I did, I probably wouldn't be able to do them without this little lesson anyways.

'Okay. So, what's your name?' I ask her. Hey, if she's going to teach me about being dead, I kind of need to know these things.

'Catherine. Catherine Wilson' she says.

This is just too weird. Way too weird. Maybe I'll get lucky and wake up again, and it'll be the morning of the Sheryl Crow concert. Hey, I can only hope, right?

'Right' says Catherine. I look at her, thoroughly puzzled.

'We can read other people's and spirit's thoughts' she explains. Sheesh, I really do have a lot to learn. Wait! Don't answer that. Let me pretend that I still have some privacy! Don't give me any kind of answer to that either!

'Is there any question I _can _answer?' Catherine asks me.

'Yeah, can dead people eat. Because I'm absolutely dying to have some silver dollar pancakes if I can. No pun intended' I add.

* * *

A/N: I'm going to dedicate this chapter to Lee Sinins since he's the one who requested that I write it. Sorry it took me so long Lee! I didn't forget about it, I just got busy between trying to catch up Burned Bridges and Randy's Thoughts (a new chapter is coming soon! It'll be very in depth and will probably be the longest chapter I've ever written for Randy's Thoughts).

Please R&R just one last time here, then I'll relieve you forever from your reading and reviewing duties from Crash. Thanks for both, and thanks for the idea Lee! It's much appreciated and is a great way to end a great story.

-Yours truly, once again for the final time here, Randy Taylor


End file.
